Visions of Redemption
by ShebaLu
Summary: Frank Plum has a new mindset that saves him from a life in Hell. Babe HEA story & Frank HEA.
1. Chapter 1

**I Had a Dream**

_By Frank Plum_

**ooOOoo**

Looking out of the front window, I watched the snow falling even more rapidly than when I arrived home from 'work'. I was quite mesmerised by the swirling sheets of snow which swept around the trees and landed on everything, leaving a thick white blanket on the grass, the road, the parked cars, the trees and even on the window sill. It helped me reach my zone. I'm trying to focus on my mindset, a new mindset that has even been haunting my dreams. Or is it my dreams haunting my mindset? In actual fact, I chuckle to myself, they are one and the same.

Thinking.

Visualising.

Sighing.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Recently, my youngest daughter, and her husband's company, had enabled me the freedom to get out of this hell hole of a house. How I put up with this for so long beggars belief. Looking at this scenario with a fresh mentality, I realise how I feel desolately trapped. I have felt trapped for God knows how long. For how long I have no idea. Maybe it started slowly. It certainly wasn't sudden.

Thinking.

Relaxing.

Watching the snow.

Flurries getting stronger.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Centre-ing myself before sitting down in my recliner, I no longer use the television as my crutch to escape. I just hold my newspaper up as a cover, to focus on my visualisations on what **I would love to happen but won't allow myself to actually follow through. **Tempting as it seems … so, so tempting.

Thinking.

Focusing.

Leaning back.

Smiling.

Relishing.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I had thought that once Edna moved out and into Stephanie's old apartment, that life would be easier for me to have peace and quiet. Oh, what a lovely thought. Two simple words. Peace … and … Quiet. But, alas, I was wrong. I have to admit now, I miss the crazy old bat. To finally see the shit that was happening around me was in one respect a no-brainer, but also a light bulb moment. How stupid I had been? Did I enable her? Did I allow her to quash and crush my youngest daughter's spirit? Fortunately, for me, I was given a new start, a new opportunity to redeem myself and make better the wrongs of my past. I am forever grateful to my son in law and the faith and love of my Pumpkin.

Thinking.

Reflecting.

Shaking my head.

Get rid of those foggy cobwebs.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

**It took Ranger and Stephanie being here for their 'final meal' **that helped me see how I needed help in the worst way. That was the final stroke, a veritable match to the powder barrel. But Stephanie remained calm and did not rise to the ugly taunts of her malicious-mouthed mother. Nor her equally toxic sister. The fear of not being able to see my Pumpkin in my family home shattered my ego, my mind, my heart. It was a sudden jolt as I felt the tightening sensation in my chest, in my gut. My Pumpkin kissed me goodbye with sad, glistening eyes. She had reserved the glare for her mother and sister, but it changed from contempt to disappointment and then a shrug of disdain. She wasn't surprised. Stephanie had tolerated her mother far too long. Kissing her grandmother, she stood confidently, even defiant, treating her mother with the ignore she deserved. Ranger's face was stoic but I recognised the underlying disgust at my wife. He handed me a business card as he shook my hand before they departed, saying, "We need to talk Frank, if you want to be part of Stephanie's future."

Helen sat there, sipping her wine, with a scornful, triumphant look on her face. I don't understand this woman. I see my daughter, happy and in love, with a man who is equally in love with her. Their engagement was a quiet announcement to close family and even then, Helen was in denial. They eloped much to Helen's chagrin. A blind man could see how much they were in love. I was so rapt that she finally found a man, a real man of her _own_ choosing, who believed in her, supported her and loved her. But, still Helen had to bring up that asshole, Morelli. I don't understand this fixation of hers. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was besotted with him. Then in that whiny sing-song voice, almost sneering, "What about dessert? You can't leave before dessert."

"Yes, we can. We are leaving. Goodnight Grandma, night Daddy."

"Proud of you, Pumpkin."

She smiled. Ranger put his hand in the small of her back after helping her with her coat, guiding her to the car. Stephanie did not look back. My heart clenched again. Edna came up beside me as we watched them leave. She patted my arm and remarked perceptively, "She's finally done it. You _will_ have that talk with Ranger, won't you Frank?" I nodded. Definitely. The time has come. We watched in silence as his black car left tracks in the snow.

"Come on, Edna. Leave her and Valerie with the dinner mess on their own. I'll drop you off at your apartment."

I helped Edna with her coat and as she donned her gloves, we left without another word. Part of me felt ashamed. Most of me was sad, but there was more than a glimmer of hope as my fingers felt Ranger's card in my pocket. Yep. We were going to have a talk. And it was going to be good. I have to concede that I need help. We have reached an impasse. And I need advice on how to deal with this situation. Ranger has experience in these matters, Stephanie had assured me.

I escorted Edna to her apartment. She was a lot happier away from her harpy of a daughter. When the opportunity arose to possibly move into Stephanie's old place, Edna leapt at it immediately, grinning like a loon.

There was very little traffic on the road and any cars I saw were driving slowly. I admired the snow haloes around the street lights at the traffic lights. The snowfall was denser now. The thick blanket of snow was almost luminescent from the brighter street lights at the intersection in the darkness of early evening.

It was peaceful.

It was quiet.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I breathed in slowly through my nose, out through my mouth, enjoying the warmth and efficiency of the car heater. I really was not in a hurry to get home. Children peered out of front windows with wondrous eyes as the snow deepened. They're probably thinking eagerly about the prospect of a Snow Day and making snowmen or snow sculptures. Stephanie and I had often stared out of the front windows, enjoying the first heavy snowfall, while we were cosy and warm inside. Stephanie's imagination made me smile. Anyone can make a snowman. No. She wanted to make a snow dragon, or snow bunnies. Her mother always tried to crush her creative imagination. "What will the neighbours think?" That constant whining and the incessant need to conform. But I loved that independence in Stephanie. Valerie always complied. She was more pliant and Helen beamed at her little angel. Should a man love one child more than the other?

The hum of the heater.

The slow beat of the windscreen wiper blades.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

For my peace of mind.

My sanity was slipping, I'm just thankful, the little family I had left with those two who were willing to get us into family therapy. Ranger had good connections. He was concerned, knowing I was a Nam vet. He spoke quietly about this security empire. I was impressed. He also explained how he exclusively employed military personnel, with a few exceptions, giving them purpose and utilising the skills they already had. He was selective. A big part of his business also promoted health and well-being for his employees and the need for strength and balance in their mindset. He admitted how he was disturbed by the lack of support Vietnam veterans received and he wanted to right that wrong. With Stephanie's encouragement and through Ranger's well-informed advice and expertise, I was able to access these remarkable resources. What a difference!

**It's been the greatest feeling ever.**

**Focus on what I'd like to happen.**

**Write it down.**

**Then tear it up.**

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It was after their last meal, after Edna had moved out, that was the catalyst to begin my campaign to take my life back. Damn Skippy! I needed to reclaim my life. With Ranger's card, Stephanie's love, and the campaign, that the empty feeling was now no longer null and void. I had a new mission. I felt a new vigour and vitality. Home was just for meals. Just the two of us. Not a home, just a house, where I lived. Not very enticing at all. It no longer felt like home.

She pottered around the house, cleaning, ironing, gossiping inanely on that damned phone, cleaning windows all the while complaining incessantly that disdain and disappointment in Stephanie and always sipping on her 'iced tea'. I ignored her bait and frequently disagreed with her. I decided to hide the bottles, just for a bit of fun, mess with her head. Confuse and make her question her own moves, all the while hinting that she is losing those grey cells from too much consumption. I sniggered to myself. Sometimes I diluted them or just changed the contents.

I have a whole new perspective and life is worth living. I have two diametrically opposed daughters: one a beautiful, vivacious, _genuine_ and warm persona; the other, a lovely family minded Burg-loving clone of her mother, Saint Valerie. I have grandchildren, four granddaughters and the prospect of more to come.

Visualise.

Calm.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

**Initially, when I had moved their chairs in the dining room from the upright to a tilted position, leaning against the table, just to see my wife's chicken lips thin in disdain at what I had done, gave me instant smuggish pleasure.**

**When Valerie (the Saint) had the audacity to sit down in Stephanie's old chair, I felt pretty good bellowing, "STOP!"**

Helen and Val's mouths reminded me of fish opening and closing, almost in sync, at me finally talking. What added to my delight, was the expression of affirmation firmly mixed with added disdain, from Mary Alice, Angie and Lisa, "They are Aunt Stephanie's and Uncle Carlos' chairs." There is hope yet for these little ones, not just Mary Alice who had the same spirit as her beloved aunt. Their loyalty was sweet and powerful, and Valerie was visibly shocked. Helen's soured visage was contemptuous.

"Sit in your own chair Valerie, and leave these three chairs alone. You, and your mother, are the reason we no longer have my baby girl here with her wonderful husband. It was because of your relentless hurtful comments towards even your own grandmother, that caused them to no longer be here."

**Wouldn't they be surprised to learn as I went on ignoring their dinner gossip, I was dreaming my biggest plan ever?**

Ignoring the vitriol, I sat up taller, opening my chest to breathe easily.

Calm.

Ignore.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Let it flow away like toxic waste.

Dream.

Visualise.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I have friends in the Burg whom I've known for years, but it took me going into therapy to **not be afraid to discuss my deepest darkest dream. I am indebted to my beloved daughter and my son in law.**

**My dream keeps me calm.**

**I relish the thought as if I really could pull it off.**

**It's why I rarely, if ever talk at meals.**

**My dream ...**

My new shed arrived just as I showed Hector the one I wanted. State of the art alarm system, so no one could get into my "workshop", as I told everyone it was **my very own sanctuary from the hell inside my house. **I waited until Helen was shopping to have my two deliveries made.

The very best wood chipper and mini backhoe that money could buy. **Price was no object.** Having separate bank accounts helped me fulfil my purchases.

I had the timing figured out and measurements helped me dig up a patch of ground over to the side of the shed, away from prying eyes.

**Now, ... to put my plan into action. I waited for the inevitable screech of being told to "Come to dinner," but I just ignored it, knowing full well she'd come to see what I was doing.**

**I waited in the darkness, hearing her sharp, annoyed, distinctive footsteps coming closer.**

**Finally, she was there, right in front of me.**

**I slapped the duct tape on her mouth ... hoisted her up with that winch I used for the engine lift. Grunting as she was trying to get down, her eyes practically popping in fear, sheer terror. Finally, I reached the opening, and using my one good hand turned on my Dream Machine.**

**I gathered my strength and pushed Helen Mazur Plum head first into my wood chipper.**

**When all was said and done, the backhoe would cover up her burial spot. Maybe a vegetable garden, or better still, a prickly rose garden would be the perfect planting over her.**

**It was over.**

**Peace.**

**Breathe in.**

**Breathe out.**

**Ahhh …**

**Silence is golden.**

**oOoOo**

I was snapped out of my fantasy, hearing a voice next to me saying ...," Grandpa, why are you smiling?"

Ah yes.

**Reality bites.**

**Dang!**

**oOoOo**

_Jointly written by Ms Margaret and Missy Kim_

_AKA Margaretlucylu and MMBabefanmmm_


	2. Chapter 2

Frank's POV

Knowing my daughter is safe and happy in the loving arms of a strong man who supports her in so many ways, brings peace to my tainted heart. Her mother has her favourite, so my conscience is clear in that respect. Stephanie is hands down my favourite, probably because she is her _own_ person and has survived and escaped the toxic and barbed tentacles of her mother, Helen Mazur Plum. She is not a clone like 'Saint Valerie' as she so aptly calls her older sister.

That Edna has escaped makes me happy, too, and not because she's out of my hair and we no longer battle over the bathroom each morning. I miss her and all that craziness and running interference. Never did I believe I would ever concede, let alone confess that! Edna, the crazy but crafty old bat, was running interference, deliberately, to distract Helen from her malicious verbal onslaught with Stephanie. Looking back, I now recognise her crazy tactics, like when she shot the chicken in the gumpy! I chuckled.

Now that I think about it, there were so many such weird diversions and distractions including her mostly forgettable prospective dates or the wild reports of said dates gone wrong. Speaking of forgettable, those hideous and lurid outfits worn at the dinner table, which only happened on Stephanie's visits, still have me reaching for the bleach to cleanse my brain! Nothing can erase those inappropriate images, it seems. Her desire to go to funeral viewings, especially the open caskets, was always most evident when Stephanie was present at the dinner table. It was a form of escape, for her own sanity but also as a means to rescue Stephanie. Crafty old bat indeed. Cunning old girl. Just goes to show that I grossly underestimated her. And all these crazy distractions were a ploy, a deliberate scheming ploy to protect her favourite grandbaby. See, she had her favourite too. And all these distractions and tactics were conspicuously absent when it was just Valerie and the Kloughn, and their brood at the dinner table. It's funny really, in an ironic way, that it never occurred to me before until just now. Since I have been going to these therapy sessions, they have given me clarity as well as peace. I chuckled again.

"What's so funny, Frank?" The sarcastic undertones were not lost on me but definitely wasted. I grinned, with enough contempt that I could harness and slowly stood up from the table. I leaned forward into her direct space until she reluctantly shrunk back at my unrelenting stare. I was enjoying this new power and was relishing in rediscovering it, or at least, redeploying it, in the home context that is. I decided to play with her mind. I tilted my head, as if I was stretching my neck muscles and made a slow remark with the best sly voice I could muster.

"_**How's**_ _**your … 'tea'**_, Helen?" And I winked wickedly at her before peering into her almost empty glass.

I watched the colour suddenly drain from her no longer sarcastic face as she looked warily at said glass. Trying desperately not to show her fear (_a big fail_), she quickly stood to run to the kitchen, sniffing that glass as the door swung shut. I nodded with great satisfaction. I heard the glass being emptied and rinsed vigorously, followed by a cupboard opening. I knew she would be grabbing that bottle, her 'tea', the one she thought she had hidden so discreetly, (_as if!_) and quietly rejoiced when I heard the contents being poured down the sink and the bottle disposed of in the trashcan.

Smile.

Rejoice.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I sighed, and smiled a wily smile. After the magnificent Dream Machine, this was another one of my dreams that haunted and taunted me. If only … Yes, indeed, those therapy sessions were helping me deal with these dreams, considerably.

"I'm off to the Lodge, Helen. I have a cab fare to pick up first. Don't wait up for me."

I couldn't stop the smirk as I grabbed my car keys, put on my coat, the new cashmere scarf which Stephanie bought for my birthday and my leather driving gloves. There had been just a light snowfall today and this evening much of it had melted, leaving that distinct mushy brown sludgy mess by the roadsides. Then it hit me. I haven't smiled like this in quite a while and I owe it all to Stephanie and Ranger. And, Edna as well. It was a good feeling. Damned good. First that magnificent Dream Machine. And now, the alleged tampering … tsk, the slow _poisoning_ of her 'tea'. Perhaps some more planning is needed. I must ask the therapist next session how I can capture more of that.

Eh! So, I lied. Pfft! I didn't have a fare. So what! Well, only part of what I said was a lie, the rest was true. I really look forward to visiting the Lodge, nowadays more than before. Previously, many of us Burg men would gather and have a beer, or just a nice strong coffee; play cards, scrabble or backgammon; smoke cigars; discuss the sports, news and politics; share Nam adventures and memories; or just sit quietly, enjoying the peace. It was our escape, our safe zone. Some of us with grandchildren would share photos, while others, more importantly, of fishing successes. We were each other's support network but somehow it was a bit disjointed. We often sat in quiet solidarity, contemplating our lives, how we got here and considered the bleak future. That's where I shuddered. Once a month we had a meeting but there was not enough sustained interest in taking up duties and roles. There was no direction.

Things changed after I was discussing this in one of my therapy sessions. Dr Fassbender asked me what I did to escape the house and Helen. I told him about my retirement from the post office and now, 'unretired', how I worked part-time taking some fares in my cab. Many were airport or hospital runs, or to and from the Lodge. Often, I would collect a few of the guys to our "Lodge meetings". That's how we came to talk about the Lodge. When I related how disjointed it was and that we felt like aimless lost souls floundering in an ever shallowing pool of discontent, fear and disempowerment, he was very interested. The atmosphere of hopelessness hung like that creepy Spanish moss from the trees in the Everglades. It was gloomy, and lurking in the metaphorical depths of the murky waters were the alligators, A.K.A., our wives.

"I can help with that, Frank. I have a partner with whom I work in this domain. His name is Robert Brown. He's from Rangeman. We have worked together and I reckon we could run a very successful group therapy session at the Lodge."

My face lit up when he mentioned Rangeman, but before I could respond and indicate that I knew about Rangeman, Dr Fassbender was already on his phone, holding a 'hold on' finger in the air.

"Yo, Brown. Fassbender here. I have a new mission right up your alley, which I am sure you'd love to be part of. To think we were considering a suitable venue just three days ago for a venture such as this. Interested?"

He went on to explain and elaborate on my observations of the tone at the Lodge. He was talking animatedly to Bobby, whom I had heard about from Stephanie. He was the medic and one of the core members of Rangeman. I could tell that Bobby must have been very interested by the excited manner from Dr Fassbender.

I wasn't the only cab driver. It wasn't like we were moonlighting. We had different roles. Some did the Bingo run. Others did the Mall run, or the funeral parlour run. Yet, we all took turns with the elderly ladies and gents in getting them safely home. But ultimately, it was a cover to escape our dismal home life to the relative safety of the Lodge, whilst doing a community service. Let's face it. We all had things in common … the Burg Housewife Syndrome. And we all suffered quietly but didn't know how to deal with it effectively. Cue the dynamic duo, Dr Fassbender and Bobby Brown.

Within two sessions of group therapy we all concurred that we were miserable and fed up in our existence living with these Bitches of the Burg. Jeez, it felt good to lay it out there. We all thought we were alone, being men not wanting to admit defeat. We weren't just hen-pecked, we had been emasculated and had our backs against the wall, contrary to our inner beliefs. We felt trapped. Many of us were Vietnam veterans but this relentless attack by our wives was an unknown, seemingly delicate yet uncompromising battlefield. At least, so we thought. And it didn't happen overnight.

Shaking my head.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Domineering wives, obsessed with cleaning windows and competing with other Burg women with their cooking and baking and immaculate home management, was so commonplace and prevalent. And the fucking gossip! Man, it was everywhere and it seemed that my Helen and that Angie Morelli were the leading exponents. I felt shamefully responsible. But considering how my Stephanie was a favourite target, it made me realise that in enabling them, I, we had become so complacent in not shutting this down. With Stephanie, I had not stepped up and protected my baby girl. I hung my head in shame. I felt helpless all over again. It was humiliating. Sitting there in my button down blue checked shirt with a pocket protector for my pad, I fidgeted with the pen I used for my trips. My conscience was weighing heavily on my shoulders but especially on my heart.

I feel so indebted to my beautiful daughter, Stephanie, and her wonderful husband, Ranger, that it feels like I have been given a second chance. I feel so connected now and being involved in their life has given me hope and strength. Listening to the different stories here, I realise how lucky I am.

Relief.

Being grateful.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It was mind blowing to discover the abuse was not just relentless bullying, constant verbal harassment, but that some of our group suffered physical abuse at the hands of their wives. The shame, and the utter mortification was so tangible, and, the fear of admitting it or considering how to report it to the police, weighed heavily on our collective consciences. It required remarkable courage. That particular session was very distressing, so powerful and traumatic. Shock hung heavily in the air.

Dr Fassbender looked at our shattered faces and slumped shoulders and said sympathetically, "We are going to turn this around, gentlemen. Now that you think you have reached rock bottom, the only way is up! There is no other solution and we will not allow you to fall deeper into despair. If any of you feel more depressed or have had suicidal thoughts, you need to see me immediately for a separate consultation. Look around you. You have a veritable support network in the making."

In sharing our experiences and fears, and even tears, we had to admit that we, the quiet passive husbands, hiding behind our newspapers and televisions, and the "Sh! Dad's watching the news." routine … we had enabled them! That was a reality check which shook us to the core. But we laughed a lot too with the help of our two wonderful mentors. Role play activities with some simple props, were hilarious and very disarming and frequently light-hearted. We were breaking down barriers, breaking down old habits and rituals.

Focus.

Fight.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Misery loves company and all that, but we were going to climb out of our virtual pits of despair and set upon a new campaign to reclaim our status as man of the house and give ourselves a future to look forward to. Dr Fassbender was good with these affirmations but he was determined that we each worked in a practical manner. There was no room for half-hearted efforts lest we fall back into the same old routine. Teamwork was encouraged and buddying up as a means of mentoring support was encouraged.

Hope.

Moving forward.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Over the next few weeks, they taught us mindfulness strategies, coping mechanisms and how to make subtle steps to regain our manliness and take a more active role in the home, which had nothing to do with lawn mowing and such. Subtlety was critical. Being mindful to take small yet firm steps, forward, in order to reclaim our place without arousing suspicion, was our new mission. Dr Fassbender reminded us that we should expect some hiccups but to be determined in our mission.

Being consistent and strong was the rule. We had to be proactive. We had to be **present**.

'_**Slow and steady in the direction I want to go**_' became our new mantra.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Dr Fassbender encouraged me to share my Dream Machine vision which had the entire place in hysterics visualising me shoving Helen down into the wood chipper. A few decided to re-enact my Dream Machine scenario and it was agreed that laughter was bloody good therapy. I then shared the Poisoned Tea episode and as the laughter died down, we realised that there was hope for us.

Laughter is good for the soul.

Feeling empowered.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Redemption," Bobby explained, "is the action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil. It is the action of regaining or gaining possession of something in exchange for payment, or clearing a debt."

"Consider this next time we meet. How do you wish to redeem yourself? Frank has led by example with visualising his Dream Machine. It has done wonders for his outlook and mindset. Now, we are not proposing that you follow through on a dream such as this, but as Frank has conceded so candidly, "It felt so good. More than good, fucking fantastic!" Consider your own dream to visualise. It will amaze you how empowering it really is. But whatever you do, never ever share your dream with her. Let's make next time we meet about confessions, no matter how silly or bizarre, it doesn't have to be a gruesome murderous ploy. If it makes you smile as you strategise your plan, then it is already working."

Reminisce.

Celebrate.

Happy thoughts.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It was agreed that this was secret men's business, not to be discussed outside the Lodge unless you were safe at home, perhaps under the guise of a poker night. We had to maintain a perception of our 'normal persona' for the time being. It was paramount that we protect the men who were being physically abused because they would be the most vulnerable if their wives got wind of the changes happening. Bobby made legal representation available through Rangeman for those who were ready to make that enormous step to break the pattern and take control of their lives.

Ironically, the Morelli men tried to join the Lodge but were unanimously blocked. Membership was by invitation only. When Salvatore expressed his thoughts out loud, "I wonder how many of us who have daughters discovered that asshole Joseph Morelli, the man fucking whore, had popped their cherries? Pfft! The self-proclaimed Italian Stallion." He spat into the waste paper basket as a very audible growl took over the room mixed with regret. I know I wasn't alone. Admitting my ignorance and lack of action was my biggest disgrace. But it proved, with this enablement, how our wives misconstrued things in their upbringing of the children while we were working hard as the sole bread winner, bringing in the pay packet.

So many mixed emotions.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"And where did he learn that? From fucking Morelli senior! Some of our wives suffered the same fate. My father did a paternity test when my brother was born."

"A curse and a pox on those Morelli men. Let's hope they have daughters and see how their attitude changes when some young horny buck wants to get freaky with a daughter of theirs!"

This was received with sardonic sneers.

Bobby chuckled, much to our surprise. He met our gazes resolutely.

"Go on, admit it. How many of you have had visions of redemption for a Morelli? Frank's son in law and all of Rangeman, myself included, have had a hundred and one ways to deal with him and no shortage of ways to dispose of a body."

This brought a round of disgruntled mutterings which turned to laughter with confessions of doing a Lorena Bobbitt, to disembowelment and chemical castration. Oh, if only. Bobbitt was by far the most popular but with the added finesse in shoving his dick down his throat! And his balls too!

Wishful thinking.

Calm.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In the meantime, we played a continuous game of hide and seek with bottles and sometimes flasks. I knew her secret hideaway spots already but I was always up for the challenge. Sometimes, watching her intently, over the pot roast at the dinner table, giving her a fixed gaze with a raised eye brow was enough to set her running to the kitchen again.

Chuckle.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

**oOoOo**

_TBC_

_We couldn't resist, as the requests came in for more. And because of all the wonderful reviews, a chapter 3 is already being formulated. In the meantime, we hope you enjoy this Chapter 2. _

_Being an Aussie, I had to look up Fargo. So glad you all enjoyed that reference, or rather allusion, and the Connecticut Divorce. LOL_

_This is a get well chapter for our dear Ms. Margaret, hoping this brings a smile to your face. We love plotting and scheming together. Evil cackle._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

**VISIONS OF REDEMPTION**

_(Frank's story continued)_

Spending time with my daughter and my future son-in-law was part of my redeeming process. It was a gift that I appreciated so much more considering my past flaws and faults. Stephanie was very forgiving and understanding. Ranger, too. After all, Stephanie had turned out alright despite the setbacks and past treatment by her family and the Burg. She was a fighter and a survivor. I was not trying to seem complacent with this scenario, but I was relieved that she had that spirit. That spirit was part of me and also, I had to admit, a part of her grandmother. They had not been able to break her spirit. She was her own person, and, in spite of Helen's relentless harassment and constant haranguing, Stephanie was defiant in maintaining her independence and individuality. She had not allowed herself to be bullied into submission to conform to those crazy Burg rules. Heaven forbid, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was so proud of her.

What Bobby Brown and Dr Fassbender discussed was confidential. I discovered that this young man, with a military background, still actively serving our country with missions, but not deployments, was the love of my daughter's life. I have never seen her this happy and certainly not with that fuckwit Morelli. I recalled what Bobby said about Ranger and all of Rangeman visualising how they would really like to deal with Morelli, which made me smile. They showed great control and restraint, mostly out of respect for my daughter. It could all come back to hit her with a shit storm if the fuckwit was to suddenly disappear. They had to keep their reputation intact, yet I'm dead certain if the fuckwit moron was ever to over-step the mark any more by endangering Stephanie, all bets were off.

I recognised Ranger's air of authority, played down with a degree of pride but great humility. It was not public knowledge and I respected that. He never big noted himself or his business. I understand that he runs a very successful security business with branches in Boston and Miami. Ranger indicated they were considering opening another branch shortly, within the state. I was impressed with his business acumen and the philosophy behind it with hiring military men, some of whom were still actively serving our country with deployments and others with missions. The more I discovered about this Ranger, the more I admired him. His love and respect for my Pumpkin was undeniable.

We were outside, sitting on the deck, in a sunny spot protected from the winter wind, down at his beach house near Point Pleasant. It was comfortable and understated. While Stephanie was putting away the lunch dishes, I asked him, "Are you happy for me to call you Ranger? Or do you have a regular name you prefer?"

"Carlos is my name. Ranger is my street name and a moniker that has stayed with me through active service, sir."

"Carlos. Hm. But call me Frank. I appreciate your respect. What is your background? Stephanie tells me you are Cuban American."

"Yes. That's right, Frank. My grandparents emigrated here with three children. Times were dangerous and difficult, even when they arrived as legal citizens. I was born here and grew up in Newark and Miami before I joined the army."

"Are there any Italians in your family?"

He smiled at my directness.

"One of my sisters is married to an Italian. Are there any Cubans in your family?"

His amusement was winning my favour more and more. I liked his confident comeback.

"Not quite yet, but I am ecstatic there soon will be."

We both chuckled at this and I couldn't help recalling Helen shuddering at the thought of this possibility, which makes me even happier.

As I drove back to the house, _(not home),_ I reflected on how my life had changed so dramatically. Stephanie was actively in my life with Carlos, which made me very content. Edna had moved into Stephanie's apartment after Carlos arranged for some necessary upgrades. She was happy too, being away from her pain in the ass daughter. But she visited at least once a week, monitoring Helen's progress and decline. She was not averse to pestering her own daughter and would not stand for her officious sanctimonious bullshit.

Stephanie was living with Carlos, and worked for Rangeman on a fulltime basis now. Rangeman made a new contract with my snivelling weasel of a cousin Vinnie. I am pissed off at him with the way he treated Stephanie and endangered her with some of the FTA fugitives being beyond her skill set. Ranger set that straight with the new contract but I still had firm words with Vincenzo Plum. I knew his father-in-law and prepared to honour my threats without remorse if he messed with what's mine ever again. He got the message. Apparently, Ranger had a very similar conversation but he was a bit more assertive and physical.

Weekly Lodge events were really something to look forward to more than ever before. As Bobby had suggested, some of the guys shared some of their dreams, but Salvatore and Donnie Milano and Con Lombardi had a special tale to share. It wasn't a dream as it turned out. It was real. I grinned at the memory of them confessing their antics. Donnie elaborated the details.

With Lodge membership, one needed two sponsors who would have to validate a prospective contender. Morelli had used intimidation with Sal in an effort to solicit such validation. So, after some due consideration, in return, Sal invited Morelli and his idiot brother Anthony and that surly sly cousin Mooch, for a meeting to reconsider their options. Morelli figured that having seen active service in the navy gave him a slight advantage over the other two, but it was never a forgone conclusion nor an automatic admission credit. There was a Code of Conduct and specific guidelines and parameters by which we all had to abide in this process to maintain the integrity of the Lodge.

Morellis three swaggered into Sal's butcher shop with an air of confidence as if they owned the place. Ermanno Conti, one of Sal's butchers, looked at them with unbridled dislike and wordlessly directed them to the back room. Sal was at the chopping block, a large shiny cleaver glistened in said chopping block. Mooch's eyes widened and he gave a wary side glance at his cousins who didn't seem perturbed at all. So, he rustled up his courage with a shudder and followed Joseph Morelli by example. Donnie closed the door, leaving the young apprentice, Eugene, to man the shop front. Sal quietly tied his clean, neatly pressed apron around his back and greeted the Morellis with a blank face and a chin lift.

"Ah. Joey Morelli. I hear you and little Tony, and Michael here, were wanting to join the Lodge, eh?"

Morelli stepped forward cockily as their spokesman, nodding his head in the affirmative. Donnie and Ermanno folded their ample arms across their barrel chests.

"I thought my navy career would have made a significant bonus in my application."

"Ya know, funny you should mention that, Joey."

Sal knew it irritated him being called but his mother's pet name for him by these older men, but he maintained his composure. If it was meant to rattle him, he wasn't going to show it. He wanted in that club. His father was denied and since he was now a respectable citizen and a detective of the TPD, he felt he had it in the bag. But Sal's snide remark made 'Joey' a little wary.

"Yeah. I heard from someone, who told someone, who told me, that your navy stint was only two years," as he slowly un-wedged the cleaver from the chopping block, "with a dishonourable discharge, Joey. Care to explain?"

Joseph Morelli could not hold back his annoyance, watching as Sal grabbed a couple of Polish sausages from the glass chill cabinet and slowly reached up for one of his favourite salamis hanging above from the meat hook. The meat hook swung wildly until Sal used the shiny cleaver to halt the swinging with a distinct resonant clink. Unhurriedly, he turned deliberately back towards the chopping block before meeting Joseph eye to eye. Joe's face paled a little but he ignored the challenge.

"I also know that your rep was not all that rosy before you joined the police force, Joey."

The sharp, shiny cleaver came down swiftly onto the first Polish sausage, making all three Morellis flinch. Mooch's hands instinctively went to protect his gonads.

"See. I know you think you were a young stud sowing your seeds in your youth. Tony, you too, but you're playing the field even now while you are still married. Not nice, Tony. And, Joey, you kept up that routine, even when you were 'engaged to be engaged' to Stephanie Plum. You know Frank Plum and I are best buds, saw active service together in Vietnam. Nasty place."

And the cleaver came down in rapid succession as the entire Polish sausage was chopped into neat even slices.

"And, Michael, you've been seen mooching around, at the high school and playgrounds. You're a dirty lecher like your father and your uncle. Not a good idea and, we don't like where your thoughts are wandering, Michael. Not at all."

His 'father' and 'uncle' were punctuated by two sharp chops on the second Polish sausage. Then, the entire sausage was deftly sliced neatly like the first, sliding them onto a waiting platter, decorated with bunches of fresh parsley and little clusters of cherries. He made sure the light glistened off the sharp blade to emphasise his fury. While he arranged the cherries very deliberately and slowly, capturing their attention with cautious suspense, he eyed Joseph, who had bristled at the insinuation of his father.

"But, Joey. I did not like what you did to my daughter. You popped her cherry and then Stephanie Plum's as well, just before you joined the navy. Fucking coward." He slammed the cleaver into the chopping block loudly. "I'm sure they weren't your only notches. Had I known _all_ the details," he paused as he grabbed the large salami, removing the netting slowly and deliberately, enjoying the beads of sweat on all three Morelli's foreheads, "Maria should have told me what you did to my little Rosita. Like Stephanie," and here he pulled a sharp boning knife from his hip sheath, to peel the skin of the salami with professional expertise, "their mothers did not tell us about their alleged 'shame'. And they were both still only _sixteen_!" He growled this last statement swinging the cleaver sharply, chopping the large salami in half. Mooch and Anthony visibly flinched and were obviously uncomfortable. Joseph too, but he tried hard to hide it, not hard enough for Sal's perceptive eyes.

Morelli heads three whiplashed as they heard the distinct sound of a knife sliding slickly against a honing steel … a curve-bladed scimitar. Mooch just about wet his pants and whimpered, now holding his gonads. Anthony gulped. Joe was getting fed up with this display but wasn't able to leave just yet since the only door was blocked by Donnie and Ermanno who was wielding the honing steel so deftly in a mesmerising rhythm.

"And just in time. Here's Con Lombardi. You know Con, Con the Concreter. He has a perfect recipe for concrete shoes and has a special tubed funnel, much like the paramedics use for intubations, for pouring a soft slurry down someone's throat."

"Are you threatening me, us? I remind you that I am a detective of the Trenton Police Department –"

"Can it, Joey. Stupid fuckers. This has nothing to do with your position in the TPD but everything to do with your 'community standing'. That's if you wish to maintain that pseudo-bullshit front you claim to have. We all know about all your indiscretions. We have eyes on you, on all three of you. Personally, you Joey, hold my greatest interest. I'll remind you that the Chief is also good buds with my mate Frank and Con out there. Vietnam has left us with some battle scars but the brotherhood is strong and reliable. We always have each other's backs."

On cue, the truck reversed noisily, into the laneway from where deliveries are made, with the mixer turning and mixing the concrete continuously.

"Regarding your application _Joey_, Anthony and Michael, we have decided to politely decline your application. We feel you have no value to add to our Lodge and your seedy reputations would taint the integrity of the Lodge."

Joseph Morelli fisted his hands and bristled angrily. He spun on his heels and stormed out of the butcher shop with Anthony and Mooch in his wake.

"Stupid fuckers. Piss off and remember, we will be watching you!"

Con joined them in the shop and all of them laughed mockingly as the Morellis scurried off, squealing the tyres of his POS, using a typical Italian gesture to signal their departure.

Donnie did a great job. He's a true storyteller. Bobby was bent over with tears in his eyes and Dr Fassbender couldn't stop grinning through his tears. The laughter, and snorting, was so cathartic. It was a great way to finish the night. Sal and Donnie felt pleased with their little display of Older Man Power. Con had an infectious chuckle which set us all off again as he reminded us of Mooch's reactions.

"Stupid asshat was packing shit!"

We all sighed, feeling happier and lighter with that knowledge as we departed home, or to our respective houses.

**oOoOo**

_TBC_

_Gotta love Frank and Ranger's conversation!_

_Next time some Helen fun and games. Ranger has a plan. Frank makes a big decision._

_We hope you enjoyed this little chapter. _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Visions of Redemption**

_Frank's story_

_We make no money from this story and delight in using some of JE's characters. Any mistakes are ours and this plot is ours._

**oOoOo**

Taking control of what we wear was not really a topic of interest, it was actually a bit lame. Bobby, with a wink, made some alternative suggestions and we set up an on-line account at the Lodge, for making choices. "We should not let our women dress us," someone had muttered. But let's face it, some of these men had no taste. And, in some cases, nor did their wives! We weren't into style and fashion. Let's face it, we liked comfortable. For our bowling event, Bobby suggested having team shirts and the uplifting effect was amazing as we checked on-line for ideas and examples. Amid the laughter and decision making for colours, team names, even individual monikers, we knew that the bowling event was going to be a huge hit.

Dr Fassbender and Bobby watched us from the sidelines, smiling and I recognised that they felt a certain degree of satisfaction in seeing us previously depressed, dull and gloomy men actually making decisions and being actively involved and committed by our own direction. Damn it felt good, empowering, in fact.

It was agreed that Theo and Eugene would come in their regular shirts and get their team shirts on the night for safe keeping from their bully wives thus avoid arousing suspicion. That they could escape to the Lodge was a blessing, like on a good behaviour bond.

When Franco was absent for a while from Lodge meetings we were very concerned. Damnit, we had no idea what to expect but we were suspicious. Dom, Sal and I decided to some good old reconnaissance on his house over the next week. While we had coffee at the diner around the corner from Sal's butcher shop, we put all our obs information together and decided on a plan. When Betty left the house to go shopping we rescued him, or so we hoped for a short duration. We found a bruised and broken man with a large bandage on his arm. He was frightened that he'd be seen by one of her 'spies' so we went into his shed instead. Luckily, I'd parked the cab around the corner. That it was devastating for us to witness Franco's fear, it must have been bad, chronic in fact, for Franco! We were stunned when he told us how she had removed his phone, his car keys and money. He was edgy and we agreed to keep this encounter short. We left giving him our assurances, that like Rangers, we would never leave a man behind.

On the drive back to the diner, we all sat there quietly stewing over Franco's dire situation. Shit. It was totally fucked up. While sipping our coffees we quietly discussed what we discovered. We had no idea how someone as seemingly demure and petite like his Betty, could wield such psychological power and pretend, and even lie, so blatantly about things that happened. Recalling how Franco revealed that he had stitched a deep cut, with a regular needle and thread, floored us. It was a rudimentary repair job, no anaesthetic of course, and it looked angry and red. Apparently, Betty had inflicted the slash with a kitchen knife, and there was no way she was going to take him to hospital. So, he had no other choice. It was evidently, not the first time that he had done a self-repair. We felt it was time for an intervention. Sal had given him some ibuprofen to help relieve the pain which he took gratefully and hid in a secret hiding place. Luckily, Franco still had access to his shed and a couple of unassuming little paint tins on a high shelf became his safe spots. Mindful of the time, we had left him, determined to keep our promise.

I rang Dr Fassbender making an appointment to alert him about Franco's serious circumstances. He made time for us in an afternoon session and listened intently, concern definitely evident. But he was not surprised. He acknowledged that he had already noted that Franco often had some new bruises or a limp at times, or that he wore long sleeves on a hot day being particularly careful to keep his arm, or his neck at one time, hidden. I realised that he probably observed us all with such an alert and critical eye, reading our body language to gauge any subliminal tells. He said he'd make some calls and we would hear from him soon, either personally or via Bobby.

Within half an hour, Bobby Brown called and advised us he had spoken to Ranger who gave us access to a lawyer familiar with domestic violence. Wow. These men move mountains. Bobby assured us that Ranger was very willing to assist and would cover any costs. Amazingly, none of us even considered the term domestic violence. Shit. That is exactly what it was.

"The lawyer he recommended has experience with these delicate situations which have the potential to go belly up and deteriorate quickly if not handled appropriately and expediently. His first task would be to act as an advocate to get a restraining order, which is strongly recommended," articulated Brown. "Not only will this help protect him from an abusive partner, but it will also allow him to ask for temporary custody of his children in order to protect them from the domestic violence. Your friend can get counselling so he can start healing, and get legal advice. There is a Domestic Violence Help Line for men. If required, we have access to safe houses, if he needs to escape the dangerous home environment."

Bobby gave me a sat phone to give to Franco. It was not uncommon for women like Betty to monitor the home phone, so this was a safe alternative. Because we now knew Betty's shopping schedule, we smuggled follow up information for Franco into his shed and even made night visits for drop offs. Getting the application forms completed and signed promptly was critical. In the meantime, he was advised to document everything. Log all her violent behaviours, her threats, anything and everything, to validate the need for an intervention and instigate legal proceedings. The more ammo the better.

Over the sat phone one evening, Franco had reluctantly admitted that he had started doing this over two years ago. But he had begun logging his injuries decades ago. Shit! Decades?! We had no idea and we were incredulous. The scars which we had seen we'd attributed to Vietnam. Many of his injuries he had to treat himself, because she always denied him a doctor's visit. "Don't be such a baby, Franco. Get over it. It's just a scratch. What will your hockey buddies say if they saw you crying over a bit of blood?"

Fortunately, Franco had been doing this documenting more seriously lately, because he realised that no one would believe him, that this situation was even possible. Hell, he didn't believe it himself until he saw how many times she had physically hurt him. Denial Land was a safe haven but it didn't protect him from harm.

In the early days her mood swings would give him periods of reprieve and recovery and everything seemed back to normal. But what was normal? Where was normal? It was now a questionable line delineated by sweet times to walking on delicate eggshells and then walking through a mine field blindfolded. The sarcasm was so scathing and belittling. Shit. It got worse. He was aware of her temper even when they first married but he loved her for her spirit and feistiness. But behind closed doors the power play and nasty games became something Franco did not suspect as violent, because he loved her and she loved him. It was "just an accident", and she would soothe him. Make up sex was powerful. But she had all the power and he felt helpless, but loved her despite all that happened. She had used his love against him as part of her power play. Emotional blackmail. It was confusing, and became frightening. After their third child was born, that's when it changed. Only subtly at first with criticism and nagging, (we all accepted that), but more deprecating and scathing criticism. She quashed his spirit. She frequently used sexual denial and more 'games' in the bedroom that he was too upset to admit. But Franco hinted at her using tools to inflict pain and injuries, a broken glass which had broken, mostly by Betty, or worse still, her softball bat hidden in the laundry cupboard. He had endured this treatment for forty years and had hidden it well. Looking at Franco, he was a big guy, tall and strong, it was inconceivable that a pretty petite Betty Bertollini had him, Francisco Martinello, an athletic and skilful ice hockey player, a Vietnam Ranger, so terrified of being caught out. So, in a way, the violence was perpetuated in fear of her threats and punishments, and, also for fear of being exposed to his friends. But worst of all, she had threatened to kidnap the children if he tried to leave and deny him any access. He was shattered. Betty had even threatened to hurt his little boy as punishment if he didn't comply and obey her.

Holy shit! This was totally FUBAR! But that was about to change.

With our involvement, it felt good to be able to do something constructive and, with a wry chuckle, we felt that familiar buzz with the suspense and intrigue. But, seriously, having seen the fear in Franco's eyes and how his whole existence was impacted, it was no laughing matter. For the three of us, all this conspiracy and subterfuge was energising. Using the daily newspaper, we placed ads with cryptic messages for Franco for the next drop off, disguised info to keep him in the loop. He could text me, Dom or Sal with return needs or collections or just touch base for when it was safe to make a call. It was imperative that we didn't alert Betty with the frequency of our visits. Her cunning and deceit was not to be underestimated.

Sadly, there are no refuge centres for men who are beaten by their wives, such is the stigma in society, that these men have nowhere to go to. Fear keeps them trapped in their tormented lives: fear of being punished by their wives; fear of being ostracised by the community. Shame is a powerful force, that a desperate man who wants to cry out for help, cannot. For some, the only alternative is in the form of the ultimate of desperate measures, hence some have resorted to suicide as a last resort to escape the cycle of pain and shame. They hide their bruises and injuries. With domestic violence in this situation, men are less likely to report it. We recognised the desperation in some of our Vietnam comrades, but this domestic violence, was not expected.

The beaten men got legal support and finally had the courage to confront the issue without provoking or alerting their abusive partner, their vicious wives, without fear of humiliation and embarrassment or shame … it was the hardest hurdle to admit it in front of their Lodge mates … from there it slowly got easier.

It was a mighty fine day to celebrate the success of our mission when it all worked in Franco's favour. The lawyer was so thorough. Theo and Eugene then had the courage to make the big change in their lives and made steps to successfully escape the cycle of domestic violence.

Because of the success of the bowling nights, we planned a new event each month. Somewhere along the way, we had a committee and made active decisions for team welfare. Suggestions were made like game days, bowling, little excursions like a camping trip and fishing, ball game days, basketball and ice hockey, with extra padding for seniors!

Seeing our men happier with their lot was encouraging and the air of contentment at the Lodge was evident and increasing. Many were satisfied with the subtle change in the status quo, to have their wives back in 'second place' but in no way resuming our past experiences and mistakes. None of us wanted to go back to the old ways. In a manner of speaking, we had somehow enabled our wives by not being present. In a word, we had become complacent.

As a surprisingly unexpected outcome, the women folk avoided Helen and Angie's malicious gossip train. Hallelujah! They decided to have a Stitch and Bitch night … without Helen and without Angie Morelli, so they could bitch about them, and others. It was amazing that the women were turning against Angie and especially Helen. It was great to finally see that these two had lost their influence and power. And what a blessing not having that incessant phone ringing all day.

Ironically, the women of the Stitch and Bitch night admitted how they admired Stephanie and wished their daughters could be more like her, _not_ Valerie who was just a Helen clone. I felt great pride in hearing that from Sal. He often tuned into their conversations at the butcher's counter. From the deli counter, Giuseppe Giovincchini heard much the same. It made me smile for my Pumpkin, but only briefly as it was not a joyful happy smile.

The men, we decided to have a Poker night on the same night while the women were out. The poker night became a regular event. My son-in-law, Ranger, even presented me with a box of Cubans which we thoroughly enjoyed. Between the Lodge meetings, our games nights and events and now the poker nights, we were becoming quite a sociable bunch of men.

A new calm seems to have washed over the Burg.The women are no longer cloning themselves into Stepford wives. The men didn't want this, it somehow evolved over time as if Chambersburg had been trapped in a 1950s mentality. There have been changes afoot, slow and subtle. It seems that the Burg has seemingly stepped out of the fifties. The power and control held over the women folk from the Bitter Bitches of the Burg has been disintegrated, extinguished. The Stitch and Bitch Club is evidence of that. They realised that their daily lives and their very existence was being held to ransom. The sense of liberation and freedom must have been overwhelming. Happier women also enabled happier men.

But let's not be naïve here, there is always going to be someone who wants to dominate in some manner. They have come a long way, and still have a lot to learn, but the lessons of the past with the BBB (the Bitter Bitches of the Burg) have left memorable scars. The likes of Angie Morelli and Helen Plum have been shunned and castigated to the point where neither has any influence, no support, no power and no alliance. The 'Old Ways' have disappeared and a new generation has emerged. Alas, even though the malicious gossip mongers no longer prevail, the power of social media with that certain anonymity that comes with not revealing one's true identity has enabled a new wave.

oOoOo

It amazed me how much time Helen used to spend on that damned phone but was still able to do all her chores, errands and clean windows and that damned constant ironing … and tippling! I saw her through fresh eyes. My wife is a lush. Her constant tippling became worse as did her denial. Her pride in her appearance was becoming flawed. I am married to an alcoholic, a bitter shell of a woman, who has become more unbearable. I shook my head and cradled my head in my hands. It just occurred to me, she no longer had a medium through which to vent her anger, her jealousy and resentment. It had become such an obsession … and I never intervened.

Dr Fassbender approached me, sitting down beside me in the garden beside the pool of reflection. Bobby appeared and joined us.

"You know, this Lodge has become a new entity, especially thanks to you. You were the catalyst, Frank. Look at the transition, the change in the atmosphere."

"Yeah. It feels good. It no longer feels like a place of hidden lost souls and zombies."

"You, Sal and Dom did well with Franco, man. But, isn't it time that you took care of your personal domain?" He smiled consolingly and looked at Bobby who countered, "It's obvious that you were a commanding officer, much like Ranger and like him, you put your men first."

"What is _your_ plan, Frank? Because I see deep thoughts in motion."

I nodded. Yep. I had a plan.

**oOoOo**

_**TBC**_

_So, … there will be a chapter 5. Frank's plan, his future._

_To think that this was going to be just a one shot, it has obviously morphed._

_Somehow, our Muse took us off in a totally different direction, touching on some delicate issues. She hijacked that chapter and here we are. It is what it is._

_We hope you are looking forward to Frank's plan._

_Margaret and Kim_

_xxxx_


	5. Chapter 5

**Visions of Redemption**

**Frank's Story**

**Chapter 5**

I waited, calm and relaxed, smiling with anticipation. Everything was ready and in perfect working order. I even tested it and was pleased with the result. All my careful planning was coming to fruition. I rubbed my hands in delight taking up my strategic position. "The time has come," as the Walrus said, "to talk of many things." But I was done talking.

And, there it was, just as I hoped, on cue. My stomach leapt in delight with that excited twist of anticipation. I was waiting for that inevitable screech of being told to "Come to dinner!", but I deliberately ignored it. Curiosity is a family trait and I knew she had to come looking for me to see what I was doing and why I wasn't already seated at the table.

I waited patiently in the darkness, hearing her sharp, annoyed, distinctive footsteps coming closer.

Finally, she was there, right in front of me. I slapped the duct tape on her mouth, her face aghast at my sudden movement from the dark. I hoisted her up with the electronic winch attached to the crossbeam above. Grunting and squirming as she was frantically trying to get down, shaking her head, her eyes were popping in fear, sheer terror. Yes, that's a good look. Finally, I reached the opening, and using my one good hand, turned on my Dream Machine, pulling that long lever with calm but firm vengeance.

I gathered my strength and pushed Helen Mazur Plum head first into my wood chipper, her legs flailing and kicking furiously until it was too late. I dusted my hands on my overalls and stepped back with satisfaction, patting my Dream Machine for a job well done.

I added a large bag of mulch and the extra leaf litter and sticks, which I'd raked from the garden that afternoon, into the mix. When all was said and done, the backhoe would cover up her burial spot. I had originally considered a nice vegetable garden but that would only make them toxic and bitter. Better still, a prickly rose garden would be the perfect planting over her, but then again, the roses would likely die. Hm, a cactus garden, like a desert garden seemed more appropriate. Rocks and cacti will do perfectly.

I sighed.

It was over.

Peace.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Wishful thinking.

I woke up feeling refreshed and looked up at the ceiling with my hands behind my head. It was still early and the house was blissfully quiet. I decided on a nice drive and get breakfast to-go on the way.

I looked in the main bedroom and Helen was asleep, still wearing yesterday's dress. I shook my head. Enough was enough. It was time, way over time.

Bobby and Dr Fassbender were right. Of course, they were. I had some thinking to do, to make some firm plans. I had some ideas but needed to finesse the loose ends. Now, knowing that Franco, Theo and Eugene were in a better place after enduring such torturous lives, I felt satisfied that I too, could move forward to a better life. I was shocked to see my army buddies, Rangers and former athletes, reduced to submissive, controlled and beaten men. I glanced upstairs as I made myself a coffee in my insulated travel mug. Thankfully, Helen had not become vicious physically, but she was relentless with her nagging and scathing fault finding when I came back from Vietnam. She was vicious in her verbal attacks on me, affecting me emotionally and psychologically. That vitriolic, acerbic tongue. Working was my saving grace. Mastering the shut-down; closing her out; not being present; escaping within. These were my safeguards, my protective mechanisms, my forcefield.

**Ironically**, _remarkably_ as I shake my head, the gift of buying her a home phone as a special gift, despite hard times, was my biggest saviour!

Grabbing my coffee and the newspaper, I set off for Point Pleasant, something Stephanie, my beloved Pumpkin, and I share as a place that gives us peace, solace, a grounding and clarity of thought when times get tough or troubled. Ha. I laugh sardonically. But then I roll my eyes – Stephanie would be proud of me for that and it makes me chuckle, just the thought of her. It's a wonder I'm not here every day lately. But I know that my Pumpkin has a better life after all the misery Helen inflicted on her and the wretched Burg with their skewed values.

Like many of us, I came back a very changed man, severely traumatised, having survived unspeakable horrors. Coming home offered its own kind of trauma: no welcome home reception, no parade, no pride in the heroics of the many who died, were injured or, like me, survived physically seemingly unharmed. Not at all like World War Two veterans who were lauded and celebrated with honour and pride. But many of us were permanently scarred for life, mentally, emotionally and psychologically. Vietnam was not a popular war. Because of improved media technology, as some of the wartime atrocities came to light, there was a national implication of guilt and shame placed on us, as Vietnam veterans, as participants in a brutal, cruel and vicious, unsuccessful war. It was a political football and we were mere pawns. And that lack of support, lack of care, pathetic miserable funding and the sheer lack of credit, was utterly shameful for the sacrifices that were made.

Vietnam was a vicious war, no doubt about it, but to be so vilified was shattering and most unexpected. And our women, our loving wives, added to the disparagement and criticism. The lack of emotional encouragement and support we expected and hoped for, and _needed_, to validate our efforts, was very lacking. It was denied. I became reticent and distant and introverted. I was an easy, vulnerable target like many of my comrades. The shame made us go below the radar and become withdrawn. Having the job at the post office was quite a contrast to the man I was as a Ranger. How I wish we had the likes of Dr Fassbender and Bobby Brown to help us out of the pits of despair from decades of shame and vilification back then. Thankfully, with the Gulf War, attitudes changed, but for us, we were just collateral damage.

The transition to civilian life, in such a sullen and vitriolic atmosphere, was difficult especially for job prospects. It was quite debilitating. Declaring war time experience often went against us and a non-military candidate was often preferred and thus selected, even though we may have been better qualified. I certainly did not declare my Ranger status. Lack of benefits made it difficult to make ends meet. A group of us bought into a cab together, taking turns driving the cab to add to our income to help make ends meet. We are now comrades at the Lodge, but in those days, we met at the park, played chess and shared stories, looking out for each other. We lost a few and we keep a cursory eye on the widows, trying not to interfere but offer support. Simple things like odd jobs, lawn mowing, fixing and repairs were always appreciated. The women rallied too, with meals and child care. It was at this time, that the Burg showed its true spirit and was a better place. How quickly things changed. We all had young families.

During her first pregnancy, she was back to the Helen I knew and loved, the gentle sweet woman I married. She was happy with Valerie Angelica Plum, an easy pregnancy and a placid baby girl; a sweet and compliant angel. But with Stephanie her joy faded as she had uncomfortable morning sickness and, in the evenings as well. Her demeanour changed. She was convinced the baby was a boy as the pregnancy felt so different but finally the morning and evening sickness passed. Her disposition calmed for a while, until the third trimester. The baby was very active, and add to that a sweet angelic, yet very jealous older sister wanting more attention and time, Helen was not relaxed. It came to the point where both Helen, and Valerie at so young an age, resented this little one. Why is it that I only see it now?

Those therapy sessions have really opened my eyes. With a new perspective, I have been able to see what transgressed, even that far back. We planned to name the new baby Stephen. Being the days before sonograms and ultrasounds, all the women folk used tried and true baby gender predictions, unanimously indicating a boy. But he was a she, not a Stephen Michael, but my precious and beautiful Stephanie Michelle Plum. It was a difficult birth, being breech and almost an emergency caesarean, and to think that we nearly lost her. She was a survivor and it has epitomised her life. I loved her more for her inner strength, her natural joie de vivre and bountiful care for others. Helen has always held a degree of resentment and unmotherly bitterness towards our second daughter. Where Valerie was Helen's favourite, Stephanie was mine and her grandmother, Edna's too. Many a time Edna would save Stephanie from Helen's wrath and disappointment in a seemingly recalcitrant child. But Stephanie was smart, not disobedient, but reluctant to conform to overly strict expectations, beyond her age, made to model herself on Valerie and to impress others. It was really all about Helen. Stephanie always made me smile, and still does to this day.

As if on cue, my cell phone rang as I pulled into the parking lot at Point Pleasant. I smiled instantly.

"Hey Daddy. Where are you?"

"I bet you can guess. I'm at our favourite place, thinking about getting breakfast here on the boardwalk."

"Hey! That's wonderful. How about we pick you up and you can have breakfast with us here, on the balcony? I'll see you in five minutes."

And just like that she disconnected. Maybe she has acquired Ranger's alleged phone manners she'd told me about. We have had many heart-to-hearts and I feel closer to her now than ever before. I was never allowed to. Helen forbade it. She brought up the children, her way. I brought in the money.

But, I was a bit confused. I had heard the smile in her voice. Be here in five minutes? And sure enough, she arrived waving her arm wildly, her gorgeous curls flowing in the breeze and her blue eyes sparkling as she removed her sunglasses in the bright morning light. She was in a convertible, an American car! A shiny red Chevrolet Corvette. So, the man does have American cars. I smile broadly as she runs to me with open arms. I felt so happy at this moment. Pumpkin hugs are so wonderful and uplifting.

"Come on, Carlos has got breakfast on the barbecue as we speak."

She was so excited as she squeezed my arm, leading me to her corvette.

"Nice wheels. Corvette, eh?"

She beamed, knowing what I insinuated. "Yup."

To my surprise, she drove to a beach house, one I had often admired when I drove leisurely around the Point. The garage opened and she parked next to two other non-American luxury cars. I was impressed.

"Welcome to Casa Mañoso."

After my miserable morning, only highlighted by my Dream Machine visitation, this was going to be a great day. We enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast on the balcony with eggs, bacon, hash browns and grilled tomatoes, followed by pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup.

"Ranger, Carlos. That certainly hit the spot."

As I sat back feeling mellow and sated, enjoying the warmth of family enveloping me, I realised how lucky I was to be here. How fortunate that this wonderful young man loved my daughter so much, as I noticed their little sweet loving touches and looks.

I stood up to clean up but Stephanie ushered me away, so I took in the panorama. The view was amazing, a perfect Stephanie Spot.

"Yes. It is. A perfect Stephanie Spot, which is why I chose it, Frank."

He grinned at me with a knowing wink. I must have muttered that under my breath and his smile lit up his face. He sure was a handsome man.

"So, Daddy? What heavy thoughts bring you here to the Point? Or do you just need a break from Mommy Dearest?"

"Not with a heavy heart, I have already spoken to your recommended lawyers, Carlos, about proceeding with a divorce. I cannot stand to be in that house any longer. She, your mother, has become beyond unbearable. I need to escape. It's the best way and I am content with my decision."

She sighed a happy sigh.

"I'm so pleased, Daddy. I'm surprised you waited this long. But I support your decision whole-heartedly."

She embraced me in a tight hug, her eyes glistening.

"It's good, Pumpkin, it's all good."

"So where do you plan to live or are you going to kick her out onto the kerb?!"

Her laughter washed over me like ripples of delight. Carlos sat next to her, squeezing her hand as she smiled knowingly up at him. I know that look. Mischief in her eyes, but she let me continue.

"I just have to get out of that hell hole. Too many reminders, many of good times, but the lingering ones are not happy memories and they haunt me. I need to escape, escape the Burg completely."

"Well. I think that is my cue, Frank. We think we might have the perfect solution that will fulfil your plans and enable your escape. Immediately if you want. Tomorrow or whenever you are ready."

Stephanie was very excited.

**oOoOo**

_TBC_

_Omigod. Once again, my Muse has taken us on a tangent. Maybe it was my holiday visiting the beaches of Normandy and Omaha and many war memorials that subconsciously inspired this change in direction, even though it was nowhere near Vietnam. Margaret and I plotted together with the magic of technology and this is what came about. _

_And so, Chapter 6 is already mapped out. _

_What did Ranger mean by "his cue". _

_What about Helen?_

_*Evil cackle* and *rubbing our hands wickedly*_

_We were rapt and overwhelmed by your wonderful reviews and pleased how you reacted tour handling of the delicate issue of domestic violence._

_The characters you recognise belong to JE._

_**Margaretlucylu & MMBabefanmmm = ShebaLu **_

_Margaret and Kim_

_Co-writers across two continents … East coast & West coast … across the Pacific Ocean _


	6. Chapter 6

**Visions of Redemption**

**Chapter 6**

**Frank's story**

**oOoOo**

I was open to anything, that's how desperate my need for escape was.

"Ready? Whenever. Now? Sure. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. I'm all ears."

Ranger stood up and leaned with his back against the balcony, smiling broadly as he placed his hands on the railing behind him. Stephanie looked excited and smiled warmly.

"Remember when I told you I was considering expanding with my company, here in Trenton?"

I nodded. It was on a balcony similar to this one but smaller, in a different beach house which they had rented at the time.

"We've decided to set up a satellite office, in Newark."

Stephanie couldn't contain her excitement as she squirmed and squeezed my hand sitting down beside me on the lounge. I smiled at her enthusiasm and nodded for Ranger to go on, as I was instantly interested, especially about it not being in Trenton, already realising he had something in mind that implied my involvement. I was curious to say the least and open to suggestion.

"I am seriously looking for a building manager. With your experience and your knowledge and respect for military protocol, you would be an ideal candidate, if you're interested."

I smiled and nodded. Wow. Not what I had expected but so much better.

"It would entail a live-in role, just like Luis at Haywood. Luis and Ella work together in their respective roles behind the scenes and up front, who enable the company to operate so proficiently. It would immediately solve your escape plan, providing you with a secure place to live permanently, with all benefits. And, simultaneously, it would solve my problem in finding a suitable candidate with all the right qualifications."

"Live-in. Hm. Building manager. Hm." I smiled at Stephanie and gave Ranger a nod. "Sounds like you made a strategic plan around my circumstances, Carlos."

"Let's say, you're timing was coincidental, but regardless, you are the ideal candidate. Interested, Frank?"

I stood up and shook hands with him, nodding my head in acceptance. I could not believe my luck. Timing, eh? He was certainly right about that. It couldn't be better. My mind was whirling with the possibilities and the ramifications. Escape, check. New home, check. Away from the Burg, check. Away from Helen? Big check! Permanent. Check!

"I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers and we'll make it official. In fact, how about you come to Haywood tomorrow. You can stay in an apartment on 4 for the transition and at the same time you can work alongside Luis. He can go through the various roles and logistics. Luis will be happy to show you the ropes. Bring all your gear and while the final modifications are completed at the new office, Luis and you can start on the requisitions and I will coordinate a team to make it all happen. Then your move will be permanent."

Stephanie hugged me warmly. "You deserve this, Daddy."

"Thank you, Carlos. Thanks, Pumpkin. That is my dilemma solved. In more ways than one. Being in a practical and useful role will be great since I'm not ready to sit on my ass just yet."

"Yeah. And it's away from the Burg but you can still get to the Lodge and keep in touch with your buddies. I heard that your bowling nights are a hoot."

**oOoOo**

Franco, Eugene and Theo had been given the third degree, reliving their nightmare existence over again in court but they had good solid legal representation. Their wives were jailed, Betty with the longest sentence for assault and battery. Because Franco had logged his injuries so diligently, the judge was aghast at the extent of his injuries and the photos and x-rays produced by his lawyer documented many of his scars and fractures. Betty was given the full sentence of twenty-five years which also included child neglect and endangerment. Theo and Eugene's wives had lighter sentences, but received sentences of ten and fifteen years respectively.

The children were older now of course, and most had left home for work, or college. A couple had enlisted in the army like their fathers had, or gone inter-state with partners. Remarkably, even though they were perplexed because the domestic violence was so well hidden, they supported their fathers with esteem and respect. They were shocked and shattered at the actions of their own mothers and the reality hit them hard, but at the same time put so much of their lives into perspective, a proper, real perspective - not the sham they had lived through their childhood and teenage years. Those who were at high school were relieved to start at a new campus and escape those awkward and uncomfortable questions. Need to know. They don't need to know. It was a fresh start and a new bonding time for all involved.

For these men, Franco, Eugene and Theo, their lives had been so dramatically changed and it was time for a fresh start for them too. The three men and some of their children, moved into a new complex of townhouses in a secure gated area, not in the Burg, closer to Newark than Trenton. A fourth resident was soon to join them.

And the fourth resident? Things were shifting in many places. Changes were afoot from unexpected quarters.

In the meantime, some of their colleagues decided to start afresh and like Frank, took out divorce proceedings. This was a big blow to Catholic Chambersburg. But since the BBB no longer existed, the barely there gossip train washed over it superficially in passing, as if they had seen it coming a long time. Funny how some people saw it coming but did nothing to help or support.

Frank had given his divorce papers to Helen last week without much comment, just letting her know what the papers were. Her reaction was nonchalant and she rolled her eyes at him contemptuously. But as is her way, she read them, stuffed them back into the envelope carefully and sneered at him.

"What are you going to do Frank? Who's going to cook and clean for you? You've got nowhere to go."

And with that she went into denial, pretending it was her imagination, confident in her summation that Frank had no other option but to stay. This was their home after all. They married and had their children here. He knew nothing different. In the kitchen she set about making dinner while she sipped with her bestie, Jim.

Frank shook his head with unsurprised disdain. Stupid woman. He headed upstairs to survey his belongings. Leaving that aside, he ventured to his one safe space, his shed. He envisioned his Dream Machine and smiled. Such a deliciously wonderful concept. He would no longer need the lawnmower and decided that someone else could use that. He went through his domain and sorted what he thought he would take with him.

Packing his things at the house had been easy. Basically, it was his just his clothes, the ones he wanted, and toiletries. Ranger had arranged a truck to help with the man-shed things and these were put into storage until he moved to the new office where he would have a designated space for those necessary things like all his tools and general shed paraphernalia. Every man needed his shed. Ah. That put an idea into his head for the next Lodge meeting. He smiled at his brainstorm that developed rapidly into a very plausible and practical concept. He wrote down his ideas quickly in dot points.

Frank had been mulling over his good fortune while he unpacked his things into his new apartment on the fourth floor at Haywood, Rangeman. It certainly was a fresh start and having his own space was kind of exciting. It was like a strange but new and exciting adventure for him. He could not believe his luck, how it had changed so dramatically again in such a remarkable way, a better way, of course.

Leaving the house had been uneventful. He packed his one bag into the cab, leaving the Buick with Helen. Edna's Big Blue had already been sold to a collector when she moved into Stephanie's apartment. That gave her a very nice nest egg as the car was in immaculate condition. Helen did not notice Frank's departure and he felt no compulsion to say goodbye. Her sarcastic contempt was her own folly. As he drove away, he never looked back, only forwards to his new digs.

The meeting with Ranger and the legal paperwork had floored Frank but it went smoothly. This man, his son-in-law, was a slick and efficient operator. He readily signed where he needed to and it was all done and dusted. Wow. What shocked him the most beside the benefits, was his salary. He hadn't even considered that part at all. Jeez. He had just said "yes" without considering what his other entitlements would be. Ranger shook hands officially and left him in Bobby's capable hands since he had to take a conference call and attend a client meeting.

Bobby had given him the introductory tour and introduced him to Luis and Ella. When they reached the control room on five, Frank saw Stephanie in her cubby and she finger waved him and blew a kiss across the control room. Lester suddenly leapt into the air and intercepted the virtual kiss, falling dramatically in a swoon. She rolled her eyes and got up, kicking Lester, lightly.

"That was not yours to have, Lester Santos. So, give it back."

"Nope. Nuh-uh. It's all mine. Finders keepers," and he planted it firmly on his cheek, luckily for him not on his lips. Tank rolled his eyes and signalled for Lester to come join him in his office. Lester winked at her.

"Later, Beautiful."

Stephanie walked up to her father and kissed him on the cheek in person. Frank smiled. He was going to enjoy this new transition in his life. He and Luis made fast friends and found they had a lot in common. Luis took over from Bobby and walked him through his role at Rangeman and how they would make the transition to the new satellite office in Newark. With a clipboard each, the two men wrote notes before going upstairs a couple of hours later to the sixth floor. Over a nice cup of Ella-made coffee with fresh home-made cookies and a substantial slice of chocolate cake, they discussed and noted the prospective new set up in Newark. Even though it was a smaller office, it still required the initial manpower behind the scenes to be full on, before the rest of the security business could get initiated. When Frank saw Luis' well-lit and efficiently organised large man-shed storeroom he almost swooned. Luis grinned and slapped him on the back.

"Expect to have extra tools and equipment added to your own. Some will likely be refurbished or replaced with state of the art equipment, all with safety approved and sanctioned fittings. Some of your personal favourites will always be yours, but anything and everything Rangeman related will be new."

"I think I've gone to heaven, man. This is an awesome deal. I'm still in shock and awe."

"That's all good, Frank. For the time being we'll work together and we'll work through my documentation I have filed which I have used with the establishment of each new office since Rangeman Trenton first started. We have a Boston office and one in Miami, too. This documentation makes it practical, and with each new office, I have reviewed and updated the changes and upgrades. I'll introduce you to Hector and his team for the technology aspects, but he will handle that transition. You just need to know who heads each domain here until the team at Newark is established. He will issue you with your own computer and arrange for your skills to be updated but I can help with that as we work through mine. Then we can transfer them to your computer, yada, yada, yada."

It was a comfortable introductory transition that had his head in a spin. He could handle it. He smiled to himself.

Back on four, Frank had just finished a delicious meal from Ella and sat down on the comfortable lounge after putting his dinner things away. What a day. He shook his head, a little incredulous how this last couple of days had hurtled into warp speed for him to be in this space, his own space, on the fourth floor at Rangeman. Amazing. His daughter was a lucky girl and deserved such a wonderful man as Carlos. Likewise, Carlos deserved Stephanie. So much love and mutual respect. He was content with that knowledge that Stephanie had finally met a man who really deserved and loved her, wholeheartedly.

For the first time in God knows how long, Frank Plum felt content. Man, was he going to sleep well tonight! Sitting on the lounge, with his feet up in socked feet, he was very satisfied as he reviewed all his notes, when his phone rang.

"Frank?"

"Yes."

"I need help."

"I was expecting your call."

"Let's talk about it over a coffee and lunch. Tomorrow okay for you?"

**oOoOo**

_**TBC**_

_And to think we would just get to the Helen scenario and let her run her mouth off. We have plans for her, wicked plans. * evil cackle* But we are going to keep you in suspense for a bit. We can contain ourselves and the anticipation is enticing. Shh. No more. Zip. -_

_Now who could that be on the phone?_

_And what was his brainwave earlier for the guys at the Lodge?_

_Muse once again is playing her own game as the wicked web we weave continues to grow. As some things are sorted and resolved, a few other issues and repercussions still prevail._

_Come join us in Chapter 7. _

_JE owns the characters you recognise, we own the plot and any mistakes._


	7. Chapter 7

**Visions of Redemption**

**Chapter 7**

**Frank's story**

**oOoOo**

Ranger was pleased with his father-in-law's transition. It was only early days but already he was a perfect fit for the job. He and Luis adjusted well to each other and it seemed like they had worked together for ages instead of barely a week. Frank's entire demeanour had changed. His body language showed strength and confidence and Ranger recognised those little tells in his stance that say this man has had military experience. He looked great in the Rangeman uniform and wore it with pride.

While he waited for Hector on an install they had just completed, having parked the SUV in the alleyway, he noticed Frank enter the diner across the street and sit in a booth by the window. Minutes later another taller, younger man entered, and sat down with Frank after shaking hands warmly. It was obvious that he too had a military background, but not from Vietnam given his younger age, but closer to his own age, possibly a bit older. Ranger recognised him and was surprised. Why had he not noticed that before? Different context. How interesting. They ordered coffee and something to eat and Ranger noticed the defeated body language in this man. Not what he had expected.

"What you see, _Jefe_?"

As Hector stepped into the SUV, he noticed his boss' fixed concentration, and his eyes quickly zeroed in on Ranger's line of vision. He lifted his chin in the direction of the two men at the window in the diner.

"Hm. Stephanie's father is a good man. He is good. _Si_?"

"Oh yes, _hermano_. Better than good. Let's go."

oOoOo

Frank listened to his nephew, noting that he was wearing long sleeves on this warm day. He hadn't taken his sunglasses off but he thought it was because of the glare from outside. But he had a hinkey feeling about this. He'd never seen his nephew, by marriage, look so forlorn and miserable.

"Eddie? Let me see your eyes, please."

Despondently, Eddie revealed a bruised cheek and a black eye but quickly replaced them lest anyone else saw it.

"Not work related, I guess."

Eddie Gazarra shook his head shamefully. Frank knew Shirley was a whiner, hell, everyone in the family called her Shirley the Whiner. But this had gone so much more beyond whining.

"Are the boys alright?"

"They're hell on wheels but they are okay, well … okay-ish."

"Okay-ish?"

"They're getting into strife at school. Thank goodness the summer vacation is starting next week. It can't come soon enough. I need to get away. I need the boys to have a break. I was thinking of a boys' weekend camping and such, just the four of us, giving Shirley a break. But Shirley has put the skids on that already. She has taken to unreasonable punishments for them. They are often grounded and it's making them stir crazy. These boys need to get out and burn some energy, be active, you know? They're almost teenagers. And they are becoming rebellious. We can't afford to send them to summer camp this year. She's been drinking the savings too. So, when I think we have some spare cash, she has drunk it. I have taken to hiding money so the boys have important things, like school lunches. We're playing hide and seek with her and the boys know it. They have become frightened of her. Worst of all, when Mikey challenged her, she threatened to hurt me. He had witnessed one episode and she used that against him. Initially Mikey was angry with me and called me a wuss and a pussy. But it happened again and he hid. She didn't know it. Frank, I felt so ashamed, my own son seeing me beaten by a woman, his mother. I don't know if I can take it anymore. If I fight back she has threatened to take me to the cleaners and deny me access to my boys. Mikey heard that and was terrified."

Frank listened intently, letting Eddie get it off his chest, at least, as much as he would disclose in a place like this in a public diner. But once he started, the flood gates were open. Thankfully it was not a busy day. They drank their coffee and ate their sandwiches but Eddie was not really in the mood for eating. He was exhausted.

"Okay. I want you to listen to me carefully, Eddie. Firstly, does anyone else know of this? At work? Friends? Family?"

With each question Eddie shook his head.

"Any outward injuries I usually cover up and put it down to a difficult arrest. I think the Chief is getting suspicious, like I'm not doing my job efficiently. What can I do, Frank? I don't know who else to trust other than you or Stephanie."

"For how long has this been going on, Eddie?"

"Since Peter was born, our youngest. She had post-natal depression and since then it has evolved. Man, this sucks. My life sucks. I'm worried for my boys. She's not a good role model for them and that worries me, too. Her drinking used to be discreet but not anymore. She's a lush and some days she can't even get up."

"Eddie. I know the feeling. I have a way of resolving this. If you're okay with it, let me make some calls. Do you think you are in danger or would an intervention be necessary?"

"Please. Anything to help. Hell, Frank. It's getting that way. I'm desperate. I feel so humiliated and embarrassed admitting this."

"No. Don't say that. You did well to seek my help. Let me help you. Right. I'll call you within the hour with a plan. You need help. The boys need help. Hang in there, son. There is hope."

With a man hug and a pat on his back, Eddie left the diner with a heavy heart yet feeling lighter for being able to finally tell someone how bad things were.

Frank contacted Bobby, who contacted Dr Fassbender and Ranger. Ranger called Frank back and said he had a place for Eddie and the boys to stay and a legal advocate already organised. When Frank called Eddie back, he explained all this and the relief was palpable.

By the weekend, Eddie and the three boys were secretly moved overnight into a secure townhouse complex with new neighbours, understanding neighbours. There was space for the boys to run around and kick and throw a ball. And it was safe. They had only packed a bag each and once Shirley was detained, Eddie was able to go back to the house to get other important possessions and furniture with a Rangeman team of muscle and a truck in the morning.

Frank stayed with him and kept him buoyed introducing him to Franco, Eugene and Theo who were very welcoming and compassionate. They recognised the symptoms though no words were shared. Tank, Lester, Bobby and Hal played football with the boys outside and the sons of Theo and Eugene. As it got warmer, they set up the volleyball net in the pool and the afternoon was spent wet and wild burning up all that pent-up energy and stress. With a few more Rangeman guys helping set up house for Eddie, Cal and Vince were manning the grill with steaks, burgers, corn and sausages. Ella and Stephanie brought some salads, cake and ice cream for dessert. It was a great male bonding time with a few beers for the men. It was good for the boys. Eddie no longer felt embarrassed but was a bit sheepish at first.

Ranger and Stephanie watched from one of the benches as Frank joined them.

"You did well, Frank."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Ranger and your men. I'm just glad we've avoided another casualty, or four."

"Yeah. Proud of you Daddy. You are becoming quite the patriarch and a saviour. And it suits you."

Without much attention from the community, Shirley was sent to a secure rehab centre to dry out, awaiting a psychiatric assessment and pending charges for assault and battery once her assessment was complete. Everyone just assumed the Gazarra's had moved house.

oOoOo

In the Burg, in a little duplex, now a _one_ person duplex, the Queen of Denial sat glaring menacingly at that envelope on the edge of the kitchen table where she had flung it after Frank served her those papers. She was annoyed. No. Infuriated. She was bitter and angry!

"After all that I have had done. How dare he! A divorce? On what grounds? I've looked after him, brought up a family, kept my house clean and cooked good meals, went to church dutifully and maintained a respectable standing in the community. What more does he want? Why me?"

With each proclamation she sipped her 'iced tea', each sip more hefty than the last. Then as is if nothing had changed she quietly served dinner in the dining room, as always, ready to eat at six o'clock.

"I've already called him, twice," she muttered sullenly, to no one in particular. She had been doing a lot of that lately, verbalising her thoughts out loud.

"He might be in his shed. He's been spending a lot of time in there lately but it's always locked. Well, if he's in there, his dinner can get cold. I don't care. Or he could be upstairs. Whatever!"

The table was set for dinner, dinner for two, but Frank had refused to come down. Pffft. After saying Grace, she started to eat her meal, barely tasting it. Taking a calming deep breath, she sipped her 'iced tea'. Suddenly she stood up, walked into the kitchen, opened the cupboard where she hid her bottle of Jim, and returned to the dinner table, defiantly placing the bottle beside her ornate wine glass. "Take that!" Taking a substantial swig from her glass, she ate her meal in stubborn silence, toasting herself on maintaining her composure.

"I am not going to be a pushover and I'm not going to be beaten so easily. Frank wouldn't dare. He'll come back, with his snivelling tail between his legs, you'll see."

But she was so deep in denial, it had not occurred to her that Frank had already left the house. The day before yesterday he came back, smiling after being out in his cab for more than half the day. She had made him a nice lunch but he didn't turn up for that. She just shrugged her shoulders at the time, wrapped it in lunch wrap and put it in the fridge for later. He went into his shed and she did the laundry.

They had been sleeping in separate beds lately, although Helen was not really aware of that. She was three sheets to the wind most nights and by mornings, Frank had already been up and gone, often taking the newspaper with him. But, not today. And not yesterday.

Staggering to keep her balance as the room swayed, Helen cleared the table, disposing of the empty bottle of Jim in the trash, along with Frank's dinner with an extra contemptuous shove. After a quick rinse of the dinner dishes, arranging them neatly on the sink, she slumped in a kitchen chair with a bottle of Jack for company. She mumbled and muttered to Jack with much the same conversation as she had before. At least she could rely on Jack and Jim to listen. Sometimes Wild Turkey would come to join them, but not tonight. She had a whopper of a headache.

Stumbling up the stairs to the bathroom, she had a quick shower after taking something for her headache. Brushing her teeth, she put on her nighty and then literally fell into bed.

Her days fell into a new, dulled and morose routine. Each night, she would shove Frank's dinner into the trash with an angry shove. Each night she went to bed with a headache, often without taking a shower. Sometimes she had one in the morning, but not every day. And the morning hangovers became worse, her only relief was to sip her Jack or Jim with some painkillers. Not the best combination.

oOoOo

Albert kissed the girls as he quickly departed for work. Sometimes he couldn't get out of the house fast enough. Valerie had become quite the nag and was finding fault with everything he did or did not do. Escape. Having an early client saved his day. But it wasn't sitting comfortably with him. Lately he was concerned for the girls, leaving them unsupervised with Valerie.

He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He reassured the girls and they understood without really understanding the full ramifications just yet. He was a good father and he tried his best to keep the peace. He put the girls to bed each night. Every morning he helped the girls get ready. But still she yelled at him, sometimes for the most inane of things. Sometimes just to get angry at him for no reason at all.

Like yesterday, he hadn't emptied the trash and she'd knocked it over, making a mess everywhere. How she did that surprised him. It's not like she was clumsy. She yelled at him for being so stupid and useless. He didn't like her tone especially in front of the girls. Mary Alice would grab Lisa to clean her up and Angie would quickly clear the table.

"We have to get ready for school. The bus will be here soon. Come on M.A., good girl Lisa."

They quickly hustled out of the room. From the bathroom they could hear their mother screeching at Daddy as they washed their hands and brushed their teeth. Mary Alice sang a little song to cheer Lisa up as she combed her hair but more to distract her from the noise downstairs. Angie was being protective and she knew if they did everything quickly and neatly, without leaving a mess, Mommy wouldn't take it out on Mary Alice. She hugged her little sisters fiercely and checked their appearance in readiness for the day. The girls looked after each other and knew that Daddy was aware of what Mommy was doing lately. It frightened them, but they had seen and experienced this behaviour somewhere before. Grandma Plum.

Today, like the last couple of weeks, Angie had set the table for breakfast and Mary Alice changed Lisa ready for in her high chair. Albert was proud of his girls. Sometimes he made pancakes for them when he didn't have an early client. They chatted happily about school and upcoming events, Lisa adding to the conversation with her babbling and chuckles, drinking from her sippy cup saying "Ah," with a smile after each sip in a distinctive way.

Albert suddenly froze. He looked at Lisa and recognised the antics of his wife. He thought it was a little game but he suddenly realised that was not the case. He glanced towards the bedroom, where she was sleeping off another of her wretched headaches. Hangover more like it. The apple did not fall far from the tree.

Stepping into the kitchen, he made a quick phone call and came back into the dining room satisfied and a bit relieved and then smiled at the girls.

"How about a sleepover at Granny May's this weekend?"

He was thinking quickly. His mother would drop everything to look after her little granddaughters. And she did. Bless you, Mom. She was coming over to collect Lisa for the day anyway. Thank goodness for that.

It was time.

oOoOo

"Stephanie?"

"Yes."

"I need help."

"I was expecting your call."

"Let's talk about it over a coffee and lunch. Today? Or is tomorrow better for you?"

oOoOo

Living in the Burg is a cesspool of hell itself. While the grapevine and ferocious gossip of the BBB had a tight rein on the goings on, and reigned with vicious malevolence, a lot of hidden drama went unnoticed or undisclosed, and completely under the radar. At last, the brotherhood is starting to feel justified and vindicated. They have their allies. Male bonding is important and good role models need to be kept in perspective.

oOoOo

_TBC_

_Now wasn't that a surprise with Eddie?_

_Not a happy chapter, but there are some unresolved issues that needed to come to the fore. Muse did her THANG again and ran away with the plot._

_And there's more to come with Helen … *evil cackle*_

_Loving the reviews and so pleased with your awesome support and acknowledgements._

_Missy Kim and Ms. Margaret_


	8. Chapter 8

**Visions of Redemption**

**Chapter 8**

**Frank's story**

**oOoOo**

Valerie went to visit her Mom after the girls had gone to school. She'd had a shower and cleaned herself up a bit. Have to look good, just in case the neighbours might see her. Feeling perkier than usual, she drove her minivan to her mother's house.

By the time Edna arrived near lunchtime to see if her daughter needed anything, the two of them were well and truly three sheets to the wind. Before she even entered the kitchen, the strong fumes of the alcohol pervaded her nostrils. She sighed glumly. This was not going to go well.

She stood at the kitchen doorway listening to them giggling and slurring and it was poor Albert who was the topic of discussion, dissing him for anything and everything. That poor man was a saint from her perspective, how he doted on Valerie and was so fond of all three girls. Her fears were confirmed here however: this apple did not fall far from the tree. She shook her head dismally. They'd had a busy morning it seemed and given the look of disdain, were not happy to see Edna.

"Two's company, three's a crowd. Unless you wanna partake in our pity party …" Helen offered a wobbly bottle of Jack but the expression of her mother's face soon changed her mind.

Ignoring Helen she turned a stern glare at her granddaughter.

"Where's Lisa, Valerie?"

"Lisa?" she swayed and looked confused for a moment.

"Dunno." She giggled and hiccupped with a burp which brought out more giggles.

"_Did you bring Lisa here_?" Edna was getting very alarmed.

"Nope. You came alone." Helen quickly reminded her.

"You mean, you left her home, **alone**, or is she with Granny May?

"Pfft. Not Granny May."

Edna ran out to check the minivan. Locked and empty.

"Oh shit. Shit. Shit."

"Stephanie. I'm at Helen's with Valerie but no Lisa. They're pickled. I think she may have left her at home alone."

She went inside grabbed her bag and left the two soaks to it.

Ranger's Porsche arrived at the kerb minutes later and they hurtled towards the Kloughn residence. Stephanie gripped her grandmother's hand and squeezed it warmly.

"We'll find her."

Ranger had arrived with Tank and Bobby in the SUV, quickly followed by Hal with the people mover. Ranger already had the door open and they were doing a room to room search calling Lisa with friendly playful calls. She'd been in the kitchen eating snacks and obviously found Valerie's make up in the bathroom. She must have played with them as shown by the lipstick on the chair, the mirror and the smudgy finger prints on the wall. The smudgy finger prints led down the stairs on the wall and the bannister.

"She must be downstairs somewhere," Stephanie confirmed.

Edna sat down, trying to keep calm.

"What's her favourite hiding place, Stephanie?"

"Of course! In the linen press!"

Quietly she opened the door and much to her relief, tears filled her eyes as she scooped up a sleepy little smudgy angel who was blissfully unaware of the drama, clutching onto her favourite little rainbow unicorn.

"Aunt Steffie," she smiled sleepily, nestling into her aunt's neck. "Mommy hiding. Not find her." By way of explanation, she thought Valerie was playing a game so she hid too. That was often how the game was played. Her little tummy rumbled loudly causing the men to crack up, grinning at Stephanie who blushed sheepishly. She just rolled her eyes giving Lisa and extra squeeze.

"Me hungy, Aunt Steffie. Vewy hungy."

After she'd been bathed and cleaned up, Lisa ate some delicious Hal-made pancakes. There was little else to choose from but he was very resourceful.

Albert arrived and hugged his baby girl. He hugged Edna, and Steph. He shook hands with all the men, still holding his little Lisa. Kissing Lisa, he put her on his knee, checking her eyes and overall appearance.

"How's my baby girl?"

"Dood. Me had pancakes. Yummy pancakes. Uncle Hal made." And she patted her full tummy happily. He smiled. They all smiled at her priorities.

She squirmed and he put her down to play with Rainbow her cuddly unicorn, oblivious to everything that just happened. She'd had a nice warm bath, was in nice clean clothes, had yummy pancakes and had her Rainbow. She was happy. And she had nearly all her favourite people here.

In quiet voices Edna recounted what ensued from this morning's events. The anger on Albert's face was not surprising but they were all unaccustomed to seeing this side of him. He muttered something in Yiddish shaking his head.

When he walked into the kitchen they heard cupboards opening and the clinking of glass, bottles, and liquid flowing down the sink. He emptied the trash and washed his hands. He came back into the living area, resolute and calm. Thanking everyone again, the Rangemen left, patting him on the shoulder and back in support and friendship, leaving Edna, Stephanie and Ranger with Albert and Lisa. Stephanie shared a photo of his made-up smudgy-faced daughter and he laughed, hugging her to him, tears forming in his eyes.

"You know, it's not the first time."

They all waited quietly for him to elaborate.

Taking a deep breath, "She's done this before, you know, leaving the house. Sometimes with the three of them but I know of at least two other times when she left Lisa on her own. God. Who knows how many more."

Shaking his head, he growled in despair as he scrubbed his face.

"She blamed Mary Alice last time for her make up being used. Angie had cleaned her up as best she could. I had strong words with Valerie that night and put her on notice. She just sneered at me, but I think I scared her that time. I threatened to leave with the girls and she knew I meant it."

"Proud of you, Albert." Edna hugged him. "You're a good man, and frankly, she doesn't deserve you. And the girls deserve better. _You_ deserve better."

**oOoOo**

Edna was concerned about her daughter, Helen. She knew things were going to shit in a handbasket but still kept a cursory check on her. She no longer felt responsible for Helen. She had made her bed and sleep in it she shall. She was proud of Frank for moving out and seeing the difference in her son-in-law was encouraging. At the same time, seeing the decline in her daughter was disappointing and tiresome but mostly disconcerting.

Before she walked into the house, the difference was instantly noticeable. The unswept front veranda, then upon entry, the dining room not as pristine as usual, but the kitchen, it was a helluva mess. Edna held back her gasp at the unwashed dishes piled up haphazardly on the sink and the empty bottles beside the overflowing trashcan.

"Oh. Lookey-lookey, what the cat dragged in," she slurred sarcastically, "come to gloat, have you, Mother?"

"I just came to see if you needed anything. I have some nice Hungarian goulash for you …"

Before she finished saying anything else, Helen snatched the container from her and threw it violently against the kitchen wall.

"An _Ella_ made meal?! I don't need her charity!" She screeched.

They were both distracted as the container shattered and the goulash slid slowly down the wall. Around the contact site it appeared more like a blood splatter scene and it made them both catch their breath.

Edna was the first to recover as she picked up her handbag and started to walk out.

"No, Helen. _I_ made it for you, at home, especially. But never mind. _That_ charity will no longer be available to you, silly girl. Look at you. You disgust me. I am very disappointed in you. Bon appetite."

She slammed the front door and left.

Helen sniffed. "But I like your goulash, Mom," as she slumped down staring miserably at the mess.

**oOoOo**

When her son called, Granny May was elated but deep down she was worried for her him. She sensed and saw that things were not that rosy in his home life and he often looked strained and tired. Him calling her to look after Lisa, again, and a sleepover for the girls made her very happy. Usually it was their other grandmother, Helen, Grandma Plum, who took precedence. They were _her_ granddaughters!

"A daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life, a son is a son until he takes a wife. Ergo, my daughter's children are _mine_!"

Oh yes, she knew. She had been told often enough. Grandma Plum was a very nasty domineering woman and it seemed her daughter Valerie was becoming the same based on her role model.

She shook her head with worry as she rushed across town to rescue her youngest granddaughter, little Lisa. Albert said the girls were ready for school and anxiously waiting for the school bus. Valerie was a no show this morning, again. It was getting worse. At least school was their escape. Poor Albert.

She was so proud of him. He was such a good father, even to her two daughters from that horrible philanderer that was their father. _If_ that was the truthful story. She was beginning to question that. Now, they were Albert's girls, all three of them. He had recently altered his morning schedule to be home as the girls readied for school. He no longer trusted Valerie, and his mother sensed his anxiety in leaving Valerie to get them ready. They had already missed a couple of school days for inexplicable reasons. The school was quietly investigating Mary Alice's alleged clumsy injuries. Perhaps she needed glasses. But there were other signs that her caring teacher picked up on, like wearing a long-sleeved sweater in summer. She suspected the father but the mother was a more likely suspect and she noted this down in her daily work pad, dated and signed it.

Occasionally Granny May picked the girls up after school and she cherished those opportune times, intermittent as they were. But lately, it was more frequent and then she knew that things had changed with the home front for her son Albert and her three little granddaughters. As they climbed into the car they hugged Lisa. Before putting on their seatbelts the biggest warm hugs were for Granny May and she was quite overcome with their love. Angie and Mary Alice were so excited to be there and enjoyed telling Granny May about their day at school in the car on the ride back to her house, where their Daddy grew up. They were so sweet and gorgeous, finishing each other's sentences as they babbled all the way home. Lisa in her kiddie seat babbled along with them, her arms and legs gesturing along with her big sisters.

Over cookies and milk and freshly cut apple slices, and some baby carrots, she allowed the girls to debrief from the busy school day. Sometimes she made her famous Jewish apple cake which the girls loved with a hearty dollop of cream. Best of all, her cinnamon Babka with its crunchy cinnamon sugary topping and those delicious chocolaty swirls, especially straight from the oven. Today, the house smelt of that wonderful cinnamony goodness as they walked inside and their little faces instantly lit up. Mary Alice galloped around the kitchen whinnying with delight as she nibbled her baby carrots.

Such was the contrast. None of the strict rules that Grandma Plum wielded rigidly.

"No, you can't put your bag there."

"Wash your hands first. And your face Mary Alice. You're just as bad as your Aunt Stephanie."

"Brush your hair so it's neat before you come down."

"None of that galloping stuff. Honestly, you're a little girl, so behave properly. What would people think?"

"Homework first. What will your teachers say?"

There were no hugs.

And more rules and restrictions and constraints, so that by the time they sat down for homemade cookies, their spirit was already quashed. They answered yes/no questions mono-syllabically. It used to be more light-hearted, a long time ago, but those days were long gone. She complained about their father in front of them. Mary Alice would scowl and fold her arms tightly and then be promptly told off.

"We'll have none of your insolence in this house, Mary Alice." She had grabbed her firmly by the arms and shaken her to get her point across.

Thankfully visiting with Granny May was becoming a more regular event until Daddy could pick them up after work. Granny would give Daddy dinner already made so he didn't have to rustle up something in the kitchen, while Valerie was 'resting'. Resting. Pffft. She knew all about it. She could smell it on her breath.

A couple of times Valerie arrived to pick up the girls unexpectedly and rushed them into her minivan, before they had finished their afternoon delights. The girls were so disappointed, but Angie put on a brave face to get them moving promptly, protecting her little sisters closely. Sometimes they had time for a quick Granny May hug but mostly that was denied with a look of contempt. No thank yous to her kind mother-in-law. This time, Granny May was terrified, having smelt the alcohol on Valerie's breath. The blood shot eyes and her unkempt hair was another giveaway. Her hostile manner set all the red flags a-flapping.

Frantically she rang Albert but he was still in court according to his message. Leaving her no other option, she rang the one person who could help her.

"Stephanie?"

"Yes."

"I need help."

"I was expecting your call." She smiled. She loved the sound of Granny May's voice.

"Let's talk about it over a coffee and lunch. Today? Or is tomorrow better for you?"

"No. No time for that. Actually, this is more of an _emergency_, my dear. Your sister has just picked up the girls and I had no choice but to let her take them. Omigod. I'm so frightened."

"Mrs Kloughn, please, take a breath and sit down. Now explain to me what your fear is about."

Stephanie was already grabbing her bag and her keys while she let the searches keep running. She walked straight into Tank's office with her phone on speaker, since Ranger was at a client meeting.

"Okay. She came here to get the girls and she was really annoyed and hostile. _Big breath_. Alcohol. I could smell it on her breath. Eyes bloodshot and her hair. Omigod, she looked a wreck and she's _driving_ with those sweet little darlings. Stephanie, I have never seen her that bad. When she reversed out of our driveway she nearly collided with an oncoming vehicle. Oh dear."

"You did well to tell me. I'm on my way. Please sit down and make yourself a cup of tea. I will get back to you as soon as I can. And Granny May, thank you so much. Stay close to the phone."

Tank in the meantime was on the police scanner and told the guys in the nearest cubbyholes to check cameras on intersections en route to the Kloughn residence, or even the Plum residence, to track her location. They nodded and were on it. They'd already heard Stephanie on her phone as they sensed the alarm in her body language and set stride.

Tank grabbed his keys and ushered Stephanie into the people mover which was already fitted with a kiddie seat for Lisa. He wasn't going to let her drive. He patted her hand reassuringly.

"Breathe, Little Girl. We'll find them. We'll backtrack from Granny May's house."

But the police got there first. The two traffic cops were relieved to see Stephanie and Tank. Valerie was in a state and they had to keep telling her to remain inside the vehicle. She stepped out and became agitated. The girls were upset and becoming more distraught. Lisa was crying. Valerie was refusing a breathalyser and had to be restrained as she was pounding one of the officers on the upper body, leaving them no option but to handcuff her and the inevitable arrest. Valerie was hysterical. When she saw Stephanie she just about imploded and it took the two officers all their strength to muscle her into the back of their vehicle.

With the officers' permission, Stephanie and Tank removed the girls from the dented minivan. Dented?! Oh dear. No wonder the girls were so upset. She hugged them closely and the three of them clung tightly like little limpets, Lisa clinging onto Uncle Tank like a lifeline. He rocked her gently, whispering into her ear softly as he brought her to the people mover. He already had a song track of Lisa's favourites playing quietly as he buckled her in and ruffled her hair, drying her tears with a tissue. What a man! He quickly texted Rangeman to have the minivan towed.

Angie and Mary Alice sniffled and blew their noses. Kissing them on the temple, with extra gentle hugs, discreetly checking them for injuries, Stephanie was relieved that they seemed okay, just in shock, hopefully. It was a traumatic experience for them, both the abduction and the accident, but also witnessing their mother being arrested.

Between sobs, Angie explained how Mommy was yelling at them about being at Granny May's all the while looking over her shoulder, not looking where she was driving. After she bumped into two parked cars and then the tree by the stop sign the police stopped the car. She was trying to keep going but the minivan wouldn't start, thankfully.

Taking the girls back to Rangeman so Bobby could check them out for injuries was paramount. In the meantime, Stephanie texted her best friend Mary Lou. She called Albert and left a message and then called Granny May.

"Are they alright?"

"Yes. We have them. Police had already pulled her over and they've arrested her. A Rangeman car should be there shortly to pick you up."

Stephanie wasn't going to mention the collisions.

Ranger walked in and the girls smiled through glistening eyes at their Uncle Carlos. He kissed and hugged all three of his nieces and then Stephanie too, more for strength and reassurance. Ella was already there playing with Lisa and Frank was chatting to Angie while Bobby was checking Mary Alice. Ranger caught his steely eye at the same time as Bobby tried to restrain a gasp. Mary Alice had bruises on her arms and her back. When Aunt Stephanie gently removed her tightly fitted hat, Mary Alice cried heartfelt sobs. Her hair was short. It had been cut. There no longer was a ponytail. It had been snipped at the place where her ponytail would have been tied. There was an audible growl as Frank and Ranger left the room.

"Grampa will be back soon, Sweetie. You did nothing wrong. He's a little upset at the moment and angry at your Mommy. Uncle Carlos, too. Besides, there are too many people in this room. Granny May should be here shortly." This cheered the girls up a bit. Granny May arrived looking so relieved to see the smiles on their tear stained faces.

Lisa's neck was sore and her upper arms had hand-print shaped bruises. Albert and walked in to witness the hand prints on his youngest daughter. He froze momentarily before switching to a sweet loving face of a Daddy who was so pleased to see his girls. The reunion was tear-filled but less anxious than before.

"My brave girls. I'm so proud of you. Daddy loves you so much."

Ranger directed Frank to the gym and had his hands taped up and donning boxing gloves as the grandfather stood there agitated and furious. He let him loose on the bag, partnering for him by holding the bag, before turning to a second bag and punching the shit out that one too.

"That fucking little bitch!" He was bent over, breathing heavily as Ranger undid the gloves and the strapping, offering him a bottle of water from the fridge.

After showering, Frank joined the family upstairs on seven now. The girls were all napping on the couches covered with the throw rugs, worn out from the afternoon's trauma. Ella had made a light supper and everyone looked relaxed and relieved. He went up to Albert and gave his son-in-law a firm, reassuring man hug.

"I've arranged for a bunk bed for the girls and you can sleep on the fold-out lounge in Frank's room. I think being close together will benefit everyone. They might have nightmares. Don't hesitate to call us. We have organised pyjamas for the girls and their own bedding from the house. Stephanie has arranged for the girls to visit with Mary Lou and her boys tomorrow. Having children their own age will be good company and, they have a large backyard," Ranger explained.

Albert's phone rang, from the TPD. He left the room and spoke in his assertive legal voice.

"Yes, I am Albert Kloughn. No. I will not put up bail for Valerie Kloughn. Yes, she is my wife. She will need to seek another legal counsel. I fully understand the implications. Yes sir. I have my daughters' interests at heart and they are my first priority. Will she be charged with child endangerment?"

He was silent for a while, listening to the rest of the charges, and then disconnected after thanking the caller. Frank was impressed with his tone on the phone and patted him on the back.

"Well. That's sorted."

And he chuckled wryly, shaking his head.

"It's time. Definitely time."

**oOoOo**

_TBC_

_Ooh. Poor Albert. _

_Alcoholism affects many families and the children are so often traumatised. Luckily the strong family support will save this family. But taking the step to seek help is often the hardest. Better sooner, before it's too late. _

_Our Muse was relentless in driving this plot._

_JE owns the characters. We own the plot._

_We were blown away with your fabulous reviews. We did more than a few happy dances. So awesome and that's what fed our Muse so strongly._

_Missy Kim & Ms. Margaret_


	9. Chapter 9

**Visions of Redemption**

**Chapter 9**

**oOoOo**

It was decided. First the restraining order for the girls as well as for himself. Valerie had done her worst and there was no turning back. Because Albert had reported the other incidents of leaving the children unattended when she was under the influence of alcohol, and, since one of the neighbours reported one of these situations, there was documentation to confirm this. Documented and notarised. The first couple of times he allowed her to manipulate the truth and convince him it was just an oversight and it wouldn't happen again. Pffft. He began to doubt her when it happened again, but her attitude was to turn on him. And, she shamelessly blamed the girls, Mary Alice in particular. This gave Albert more cause for concern, but he never saw any evidence to validate it any further. He had no other option other than to record the later incidences. It was a reluctant task but seeing it in print, he realised that their lives had been irrevocably changed. He felt concern for his girls and he was a very protective father so, he enlisted the support of his kind sister-in-law and his mother.

Stephanie recalled how, in whispered tones, in case she should walk in at any time, Angie had phoned her when Mommy was out of the house longer than a couple of hours. On another occasion, Mommy had passed out and left the girls to fend for themselves. She had not done any shopping and the milk smelt funny and there was no bread. So, the girls ate crackers. Aunt Stephanie had brought fresh milk, bread and fresh sandwiches and doughnuts for the girls to eat. Both times, Stephanie stayed with her nieces until Valerie became conscious, or returned from her "extended outing". Stephanie just said she came to visit and stayed, in no way implicating Angie for being the responsible 'adult' with common sense.

oOoOo

In court, the Judge was not having a bar of it.

"Telling tales? Seriously? Who is the adult here? These are _serious_ charges, Mrs Kloughn. This is no laughing matter."

The nervous giggle was a stupid mistake from Valerie. She had never been in this sort of situation before. She had always been the good girl. Stephanie was the one who always caused trouble. Stephanie was always the one to be admonished and reprimanded. Stephanie was the naughty girl, not Valerie. That's when she smirked and the hawk-eyed Judge pounced on her.

"We are talking about your children! Their safety is paramount and as the responsible adult, that should be your first priority. You failed miserably, Mrs Kloughn. Your behaviour and your attitude are both reprehensible. You have a duty of care of which you have been repeatedly negligent."

Valerie shrugged her shoulders nervously.

"And now, with your _abduction_," Valerie audibly objected to the 'abduction' word. "Yes. _Abduction_ of your own children. Call it kidnapping then." When she protested again, the Judge gave her a most scornful look and qualified her statement, "Your _abduction_ of your three young daughters, while you were _under the influence of alcohol_, was gross negligence of the highest order! I call it abduction because you forcibly removed your three young daughters from a place of safety, a haven, into your vehicle, whilst common sense should have prevailed and prevented yourself from driving. You drove recklessly and if not for the collision with the tree, the consequences could have easily turned fatal. You endangered your children's lives to spite your kind and caring mother-in-law or for some misguided sense of delayed responsibility. Who knows?! You were _drunk_! You side-swiped two legally parked vehicles causing significant damage, and you crashed into a tree and damaged a stop sign at the intersection. It's a wonder the girls were not more seriously hurt. They are lucky to be alive."

As the Judge took a sip of water and started to arrange the next set of papers in front of her, Valerie hung her head in shame. She glanced over to the gallery. Sitting in different rows, were her indifferent mother; her scowling father; her husband, Albert, staring angrily at her with his arms folded in a strong commanding posture that made her cringe; her sister Stephanie who looked sadly on, sitting beside her handsome husband Carlos, stoic and blank-faced but consoling Stephanie; her grandmother with an air of disappointment while glaring at her mother, Helen; and, Granny May, who looked visibly upset and distressed. There were other people, some of whom she recognised but tried to ignore. This felt so unreal and unfamiliar, surreal in fact. She was always the good girl. Her sister even referred to her as 'Saint Valerie' - yes, she knew.

"The evidence I have here … _Mrs Kloughn_!" Valerie jumped as she was broken from her distracted gallery search come reverie. "_The evidence I have here_ is extremely damning: your extremely high blood alcohol level; the police report at the time of your arrest and the extensive list of charges. Fortunately for your children, you have a very supportive family, for whom you have exhibited nothing but contempt and disdain."

Valerie cast a rueful glance in their direction. Her hands were sweaty and she was trying to hide the tremors.

"I note from the next exhibit, that this was not your first DUI." She raised a scornful eyebrow at Valerie as she looked over her gold and black rimmed reading glasses. Valerie wasn't sure whether to respond but she nodded her head admitting this was true. Albert looked surprised.

"You have already accrued enough points to lose your licence. The charges include: DUI, child endangerment, abduction/kidnapping, reckless driving, driving without a seatbelt, damage to public property, damage to property of others, failing to stop at a stop sign, creating a public disturbance, resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law."

She paused and shook her head.

"Furthermore, I have receipts from your husband, Mr Albert Kloughn, of your extensive expenditure on alcohol, reinforcing your habitual drinking habits. You have also racked up a considerable list of credit, owing to the bottle shop you are known to frequent. This was not a simple case of drunk driving. You have a serious alcohol problem. You are an alcoholic. I recommend a psychological assessment at a secure rehabilitation centre, serving time in the secure rehabilitation centre for the full treatment prior to serving the full extent of your sentence for the main charges."

Valerie was now sitting in a daze, only taking in some of the Judge's remarks. Key words made her catch her breath: psychological assessment, secure rehabilitation centre, alcoholic, sentence. She gulped and her anxiety was starting to make her shiver, sweat and feel nauseous.

"Additionally, the next exhibit are photos of the bruises on you daughters, some of which seem less recent. How do you explain the bruises, hand prints that match your hand size, on your youngest child? This is very disturbing. You are not fit to be a mother." The Judge was scathing in her summation.

Valerie had no answer and was too scared to admit her anger at those times. But to be honest, she did not remember the incidents clearly or what set it off or why or what made her angry. She treated it like a rhetorical question and sort of shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, swiping at her hair nervously. The Judge ignored her with contempt.

"Mr Albert Kloughn had your three daughters assessed initially by the medic at Rangeman Inc., Mr Robert Brown, who recommended a full medical assessment for the bruising, possible kidney damage and the neck tenderness, for shaken baby syndrome, given the handprint bruises on the youngest child."

The Judge stopped and glanced incredulously at Valerie.

"After extensive tests, none of the injuries was accident-related but evidence of physical abuse, particularly with Mary Alice."

The Judge paused here. She placed two fingers to her forehead to compose herself, shaking her head in a miniscule action, and glared at Valerie in such a manner that made her shrink back in fear.

"But what kind of mother are you who brutally cuts her young daughter's ponytail?"

"Because she's always pretending to be a horse!" Valerie blurted out before she could restrain herself.

"Seriously! I am appalled that you have the audacity to call yourself a mother. Shameful. Disgraceful. Utterly incomprehensible. How cruel. She is a child. She has had to go to a hairdresser to modify the extremely reckless cut into a more stylish finish."

Valerie was fidgeting as she knew things were bad and was desperately seeking escape. The elusive entrance to Denial Land evaded her.

"In addition to the charges in relation to the accident, you are charged with assault of two minors, and negligence in your care of all three minors. I understand that your two your oldest daughters, Angie and Mary Alice, are from your previous marriage. Mr Albert Kloughn, whom you married upon your return to New Jersey from California, has legally adopted them and you jointly have a third child, Lisa."

Valerie nodded.

"Mr Albert Kloughn has made an application for custody of the three children and this I have granted without contest. He now has sole custody and the restraining orders have been endorsed and validated."

She let that decision hit Valerie before proceeding to the last indictment.

"Even though the next item is a family court matter, in lieu of expediency and practicality I have allowed this to be part of this special extraordinary arraignment hearing. A precedence has not been set but there are extenuating circumstances. Valerie Kloughn, three months ago, you were served with papers with a request for a divorce from Albert Kloughn. The papers were notarised and lodged on the twelfth of April and served in person by the bailiff to your residence, to you in person. Albert Kloughn, your request for a divorce is granted without question.

Valerie was aghast. She was angry and stared in shock and disbelief at Albert. How could he do this to her? She had never seen him like this. It shook her. Albert looked strong and assertive and when she saw that body language, that assertive glare, she knew she had lost. She sobbed but no one felt sorry for her, not even her own mother, who was there but in denial. She was not fully present. Valerie's sobbing was not about remorse, and the Judge had recognised this. It was fear. Not fear of losing her children or her husband which was certain to happen, fear of losing control, self-control. Feeling sorry for herself. That lack of genuine remorse was what saddened the Judge and made her blood boil at the same time.

And, with that, she firmly banged the gavel as the bailiff told the members of the courtroom to stand.

The special extraordinary arraignment was adjourned for a later date for sentencing. Valerie was immediately transferred to a secure rehabilitation centre for alcohol abuse in handcuffs.

The courtroom emptied. It was a solemn and strained group who gathered outside on the court house steps. Everyone was there in support of Albert. Stephanie noted how much leaner he looked, no longer the pudgy doughboy-look. He had leaned off and he had an air of confidence none of them had seen before. Being protective of the ones you love gives you strength and Ranger recognised this. He was impressed with Albert and an idea began to formulate in his mind. He hugged Stephanie close to his side as she was very affected by the entire process.

Frank came over to Albert, "Proud of you, son," he affirmed patting him on the shoulder firmly. His mother hugged him warmly, tears in her eyes. "Thanks, Mum."

No one cheered. It wasn't a celebration. It had been a harrowing ordeal. An ordeal to get there and an ordeal to relive it all. This could so easily have gone totally pear-shaped with fatal consequences, had it not been for the tree and the car failing to start. They had all recognised that possibility. That Valerie hit those two vehicles obviously slowed her down. They could just as well be grieving but thankfully that was not to be. So, let's not go there.

What was blatantly obvious to every person present inside that courtroom, was a shock. Valerie did not accept responsibility for her actions. The ramifications of her actions and the outcomes and the Judge's decisions had not permeated her still alcohol-infused brain.

oOoOo

_TBC_

_Well. That was an ordeal. We took a bit of literary licence with the legal process, after all, it is fiction. _

_Our Muse decided it was all about the shit hitting the fan for Valerie._

_JE owns the characters with whom we like to create new plots and journeys._

_Ms. Margaret & Missy Kim_

_Margaretlucylu & MMBabefanmmm_


	10. Chapter 10

**Visions of Redemption**

** Chapter 10**

**oOoOo**

Albert embraced his new existence feeling the tension fall away. He had dreams of escaping his former life with his three precious daughters. Now, for the first time in his adult life, he felt in control and that he was able to protect and rescue his daughters from their earlier Hell was the icing on the cake. The recent changes were all for the better and a fresh start was very redeeming.

He was excited when he was offered a higher position in the legal firm where he was working, but Albert was unable to accept it with the extra hours required and now being a sole parent, his priorities had to be reviewed. He politely declined. He also felt that with all the recent dramatic events, he needed to get away from Trenton. Getting out of that house and all its unpleasant memories was paramount.

Problem solved. Ranger offered him a PR position with Rangeman at the new satellite office in Newark. He accepted willingly and was chuffed to become a Rangeman himself. With his knowledge of the law, especially corporate law, Albert proved to be a valuable asset to the company. After the standard training period, he was required to fulfil the expected requirements and weekly targets with gym time, gun range, defensive driving and research, but not surveillance and skip apprehension. Albert was a good researcher especially in the corporate field and in his induction period he was a big help to Rodriguez. Where he lacked some of the local knowledge like Stephanie, he had a pulse on the neighbourhood through his legal contacts, cases and activities. But he had the same intense inquisitiveness and curiosity as Steph had, and it soon became apparent that the new Albert Kloughn, ex-doughboy replica, was not to be underestimated. He had been so down-trodden by his ex-wife and mother-in-law, he barely had a chance to shine. His reputation was redeemed and his confidence benefited from the recognition.

With the employment at Rangeman, he was offered accommodation as part of the contract, like two other new staff members to the satellite office who had families. They moved into the new secure townhouse complex, where Eddie Gazarra and his three boys had moved earlier in the year. Albert was introduced to his new neighbours Franco, Theo and Eugene. The girls were happy to play with Eddie's sons since they already knew each other.

To assist with child care, Ranger and the core team approached Granny May. She was over the moon to be closer to her son and her three beautiful granddaughters. Her home was now only minutes away rather than across town. She was able to be there for the mornings, school bus time, Lisa day care time, and after school time when she also fed the two sons of Eugene, Marco and Mateo. Eddie's sons, Peter, James and Michael, joined the group and it was a real family feel for all the children. Granny May liked to cook but she was also provided with two assistants in the afternoons to free up her time with her own granddaughters. One had nursing experience and the other was a former teacher. On her pink apron, Granny May had Rangeman embroidered which made her very pleased. She was so proud of her son Albert, fit and handsome in his uniform.

With a homework club they enjoyed a lot of outdoor activity time in their new exclusive neighbourhood, relishing the safety and security of their new village life style. One of the townhouses was converted into a community centre so that when winter came, they were indoors, warm and safe and supervised. A games room, a homework centre, a library and computer hub made it child-centred and a place they wanted to be. Screen time was limited and balanced with other activities, but each child was enabled that precious commodity, peace and personal space. In therapy they were each asked what that looked like for them and Ranger had those requests incorporated into the community centre.

Before the end of the first week of the summer vacation, Tank and Lester set up a mini boot camp at one of their other facilities with resiliency training and endurance training. The boys were very excited to do this with a weekend stayover, giving their fathers a break as well. It was a necessary activity and enabled the boys also to channel their energies and work on modifying their mind set. It was agreed that this would become a regular event.

All the children had been receiving therapy time and the older ones bonded with group therapy as their need for individual sessions was less. They had confidential sessions as a group which they found to be very enlightening especially knowing they were not alone in this horrid experience.

Mary Alice and Angie enjoyed being allowed outside to play in the extensive play area in this secure new village style _and_ they could play with boys! Mary Alice ran like the wind to her heart's content, leaping over logs and play equipment. All the children had responsibilities with maintaining their play area.

Angie, Mary Alice and Lisa loved that Granny May was now a regular part of their life and thrived on her unconditional love. Mary Alice's hair grew back eventually, but it was a while before she could get a ponytail. Lisa seemed the least affected and moved with the changes easily with no repercussions from her episodes. Angie was the one who worried the therapist. She had been the big sister protector for so long and was quiet but she found her avenue through books and science.

oOoOo

When Stephanie came to visit the Newark office, she met with Albert and her father for lunch.

"You know, you two scrub up pretty good in your Rangeman uniforms."

"Steph. Rangeman guys are not pretty." Albert said very dryly and then burst out laughing. The three of them high-fived and relaxed with the new surroundings.

Ranger walked in and shook hands with both his father-in-law and his brother-in-law.

"Cal tells me you have made an excellent transition to Rangeman Newark, Albert. Congratulations."

oOoOo

Ram, Cal and Hal headed the Newark office as the core team. Some staff from Boston and Miami joined the team but new applicants were taken after rigorous assessments. Frank had found his new role very satisfying and fulfilling. It was nice to be valued and respected. He liked being useful.

Frank approached the Lodge meeting with his new submission for a men's shed, a workshop for men to make and do things, learn new skills and connect with other men. It was well received and served a great purpose for other men in the community to interact in a more social context. They were exploring possible venues and approaching the City of Trenton for a grant as part of their community service.

oOoOo

Visions of redemption still occasionally haunted his dreams. Frank's Dream Machine was in some way there but he was no longer part of the dream, not even as an observer. It was more ephemeral and translucent and the location no longer reminded him of his former shed. Remarkably he felt very satisfied each time he had that dream.

And like Luis said, speaking of his 'new shed', his new storage and equipment centre was what made a working man's dreams come true with every possible tool available. He was giddy with excitement and it made him smile every time he entered that domain.

oOoOo

That morning after the sentencing hearing, once again the family members stood on the court house steps, quiet and somewhat shattered but relieved with the Judge's decisions and the sentence. She was curt and blunt, direct and shot straight from the hip.

In sentencing, Valerie was sent to the Edna Mahan Correctional Facility for Women for a minimum of ten years. No parole and then her addiction status would come under review. She had pleaded with Albert to reconsider and was promptly told to be quiet or add contempt of court to her charges. Of course, she became hysterical, and it was not a pretty sight. Albert was unmoved and once again Valerie was in awe of her now ex-husband. She wanted him back. But that was never going to happen. Ever.

Albert breathed a sigh of relief when she was removed from the court room.

On the steps, Ranger and Stephanie hugged Albert. It was over, but he felt numb.

"Let's go to the beach house. You cannot be alone at the moment. We are a family and we have decided on a family get-together. Granny May is already there with the girls messing about with Bobby, Tank, Lester and Hector. We all need some space. Ella has already prepared a big cook out and special secret dessert. Luis will be there too, so Frank, you two can talk shop and tools!"

Within the hour, they were all sitting on the deck enjoying the view, protected from the winds that still blew but without the stormy impact during this past week. Ironic that the storm was brewing and doing so much local damage, especially in the Burg.

Lightning flashed on the horizon over the ocean and they all sat back and watched the distant light show. The girls hugged their Daddy on one of the loungers and Lisa snuggled in close, falling asleep amid the talking and family hum.

**oOoOo**

Walking down the court house steps in a daze, Helen was confused with what she witnessed in the court room that morning. A sense of impending doom surrounded her and she was mystified by that. Her family was collapsing around her and she couldn't comprehend how that could happen to her. Why me?

When the sentence hearing came through declaring Valerie an unfit mother, negligent and physically abusive, losing the custody of her three girls and having a restraining order imposed upon her, and, divorced, Helen was in shock. The drunk driving charges and losing her licence and the fines that were accrued, were mind boggling. That now made four divorces in her Catholic family: Stephanie's from Dickie Orr, Valerie's from Steve, her own from Frank and … OMIGOD! Valerie's _second_ divorce now, from Albert. She crossed herself. What would people say? The Judge had been beyond disgusted with Valerie and made no effort to hide how revolted she was with Valerie's disgraceful behaviour. Helen felt a jolt of something … was it guilt?

The rehabilitation order and the psychological assessment made matters worse. Her daughter was an _alcoholic_. That meant … was she an alcoholic? Valerie was jailed. Omigod. The shame. The shock. Disgrace. Her daughter was now a _criminal_! Helen felt so devastated. She swayed with anxiety and the fear of those implications. What will people think?

To get home from the court house she had to walk despite the stormy weather. To quell her anxiety, she detoured by way of the bottle shop. In the little park she sat on the bench overlooking the garden near the court house and poured herself a plastic cup of the amber fluid. It burned down her throat but it felt so good. Redemption was a strange concept and it was about to bite her on the ass. She considered that she had worked so hard lately and in redeeming herself, she felt she deserved a reward. She sat and contemplated her life over the last six months when everything started to go hell in a handbasket.

She was walking because she had to sell the car to cover costs and make ends meet. She was spending more than she had available. She did not budget, she never really had to before. She had her housekeeping money which Frank gave to her each week …. Hm. Managing the rest of the finances was Frank's domain and she'd had no interest in that. Gradually, she'd drained the bank account, spending beyond her means. Hell, she had no idea what her account balance was. She never gave it a thought as there was always money to be had. Another wake-up call. Her life had changed irrevocably and she was yet to catch up with the changes and the ramifications, while she was still lurking in the depths of denial, combined with the alcohol abuse which always gave her a skewed perspective.

She had not planned ahead to be able to pay for necessities, like utilities, so when the power was cut two weeks ago, she assumed it was due to a black out. A logical assumption. But looking at all the neighbours' homes all alight she started to question if maybe a fuse had blown. Pfft. Where's Frank when I need him? … Oh. Yes.

She rang the power company to complain only to be told bluntly that the account had not been paid and as a result, despite warning letters and a final notice, her power was cut. A connection fee needed to be paid along with the unpaid account before power could be restored. Helen did not appreciate the condescending tone with which she was treated just because of her ignorance. Frank always paid the bills ... Oh dear. She realised her error. But she was too stubborn and bloody-minded to admit that.

Warning letters? She had just put any mail addressed to Frank aside, thinking she would hand them to him … when she saw him. Oh dear. There had been warning letters and final notices and electricity was not the only one. Her phone was next on the list, and car insurance. Yikes!

So, after sitting in the dark, brooding and stewing, sullenly blaming Frank, and Stephanie and Valerie, and her mother, she concluded that only she could fix it. Not being able to use anything electric was a wakeup call. She had been so angry, annoyed and so bitter, and blaming everybody but herself. Frank had left her with the house, the car and, fortunately for her, a monthly deposit from his Veteran's Service pension went into the bank. So, when that was gone, she had to wait until next month. The consequences hit her hard that she had to live off what was in her pantry and the freezer. But with no power she had to throw out a most of the food stuff from the fridge and quickly use the frozen items. Thank goodness for fish fingers, Damn. Can't cook them! In the trash.

Deciding to make a pot of coffee … oh. That was also not going to happen. In anger she threw her favourite cup at the wall and slumped down on the chair, or where she thought it was, only to fall on the floor. The only option was to go to bed but sleep did not come easily. Nightmares flashed through the restless night. Not being able to read in bed, she tried to relax herself with happier thoughts but they were not forthcoming. Eventually she did fall asleep out of mental exhaustion and because she finally relinquished the hold on her anger and resentment with no electricity, vowing to make that a priority the next day.

She offered to do ironing for Valerie and Valerie's friends. Laundry and ironing were what she was good at. Oh Hell. Not going to happen, Helen. Electricity. But that also meant having to buy extra laundry powder. Dollars she couldn't spare. Ironing it was. So, she had a plan to make some money but that was not going to get her power back.

No cooking, no vacuuming, (not that she had done much of that lately), no hot water, no laundry, no ironing. Not even television, which she had started watching a lot more to pass the time whilst in her drunken stupor, sitting defiantly in Frank's chair.

To settle the unpaid account and reconnect, she had to sell the car. She decided that she could catch the bus easily. This at least gave her a healthier bank balance but she had to be careful with her money management from now on.

With embarrassment and utter humiliation, she had to ask the bank for assistance in managing her accounts since Frank always handled the finances. She had gone in originally, to complain about the money disappearing or that someone had to be stealing money from her through the bank. She was mortified when they showed her how the money was disappearing by her own means. The bank statement showed every day's expenditure, where she shopped and how much she spent at each location, and, worst of all, it highlighted the frequent visits to the bottle shop. Such an embarrassing experience. Making name changes while she was there, was important so that the bank statements would be addressed to her. No, she didn't want to do Internet banking since she didn't have a computer. And it was too complicated and convoluted to remember how to do it on her phone.

So deep was her denial, it had taken her more than a week to realise Frank had already left and moved out, so many months ago now. She had tried to call him many times but there was no connection. Denial Land was her permanent residence at that time and she only had the company of her boys Jack, Jim and Wild Turkey. Occasionally Old Crow would fly in when it was on sale, but she knew she could always rely on Jack and Jim. Her mother and Valerie dropped by occasionally to check on her or scold her and sometimes bring a meal.

Doing ironing for Valerie and some of her friends worked, for a while, but not having a car, they had to come around and collect. There were very few jobs available for a woman her age and that critical factor which she had not considered, _experience_. She even considered taking a position as a dishwasher. Well, dishwasher. Pfft. That was a no brainer, or so she thought. It was vastly different from just a family's daily load, _and_, she had to be able to use the autoclave for glassware. Just the steam and the size of that contraption phased her. They were demanding and pushy and kept putting pressure on her to be faster and more efficient. But that only lasted three weeks. Besides, the hours were lousy and for all her hard work, the pay was minimal. But it did get her through a very tight and difficult month. Without admitting it, because she is so stubborn and obstinate, it was a humbling experience.

When she heard about the fire in Kentucky at the Jim Beam warehouse she had cried. She wept and delicately caressed her last bottle with each swig, as if it was a baby. The very next day she had stocked up with extra supplies, just in case. She became morose and her mood swings were from one extreme to the next. She had a lot of time to wind herself up, to mope and whine and get deeper into her misery and denial. She had a lot of time to think, and reflect. Too much time.

It was during this period in her dismal life that Helen seemed to take a reality check and clean up her act. With the power restored she cleaned the house and washed all the windows and when she was pleased with the results she rewarded herself with some cake and coffee. The kitchen was spotless and once again she took pride in her domain. She baked some cookies and the house smelled homely for the first time in ages.

Something she had not expected from Frank was him standing up to her. He didn't throw her out per se. He may as well have done so. Reluctantly, Helen had to acknowledge that Frank looked after those financial matters and it was a huge wake up call. She had grossly underestimated him. Did she miss him? … crickets … doubt … mixed feelings … ambivalence.

His departure threw her completely off kilter. He would spend a lot of time in his shed. She noticed how at dinnertime he would frighten her. He even smiled at her, not a nice smile. And what was that with his winking? She had never seen this side of Frank. Well, yes, teasing in their younger days, but this was a bit more … sinister. Her bottles kept disappearing or they tasted funny or weaker. What was he up to? She never saw it coming. She was so confident in her denial and obliviousness, that Frank leaving after giving her those damned divorce papers caught her totally unprepared, being from left field, so to speak. She assumed he was still in the house and that he would change his mind. She did not believe that he would do that to her. But he did. Six months ago.

There were so many new things to learn. She looked leaner with her dietary changes and limitations, like lack of fresh food, and because of her consumption, her face was more lined. But during this renaissance period, her drinking was more modest and she limited her drinking to mealtimes only, and especially excluding breakfast. That was the most difficult one but she was disciplined enough to achieve that to this day. It was still a tempting desire to just grab a little sip to start the day, but she stayed on task with her decision.

She cleaned up her appearance and that did not go unnoticed but still the women of the Burg gave her a wide berth. She may have redeemed herself in her own eyes, but trust and respect were precious qualities which had to be earned, and when they were lost, that was it. There was no going back. She went to church, sitting in a pew alone. She avoided confirmation for the time being. She was fine, she was better now. She had redeemed herself.

In exchange for mowing the lawn, she cooked meals and cakes, or washed windows. People were reluctant to take her offer of house cleaning. There was a huge learning curve and her desire to save face after the debacle with the bank and the power company still smarted. And the divorce, that really stung. Survival and saving face.

This period lasted for a couple more weeks after Valerie's arraignment. That entire morning shook her to the core. In the court room she felt as if the Judge was admonishing _her_ at the same time. Valerie used to come over, yes, and they'd share a drink or two. When had it become so much more? It was nice to have someone to talk to; nice to have someone to complain to; nice to have someone in the house, visiting; so nice to have a drinking buddy.

She tossed the now empty bottle into a nearby trashcan and tidied herself up with the gusty wind blowing wildly through her hair. She stood, unsteadily at first, and when the path stopped wobbling around, she decided it was safe to depart. That sense of foreboding hit her again so she decided to get going, away from this wild weather.

The summer storms this past week had been brutal and numerous trees were damaged and uprooted in some places, with many fallen branches in the street, some even blocking and hindering traffic flow. Some of the larger ones had been dragged onto the roadsides, covering the footpath. Fallen powerlines had been repaired almost immediately but the branches had just been cast aside.

Helen walked along the path strewn with fallen branches, ignoring the safety tape, struggling with her handbag and her shopping bag with the "groceries" a la bottle shop, as she stepped unsteadily over them. She was still struggling with the aftershocks of the Judge's decision and sentencing and her bitter reflections. Why is she walking? Ah yes. Because she had to sell the car, which was too expensive to run _and_ she had to get electricity back on. Besides, today she had run out of coins for the bus.

After the week of storms, the debris was everywhere and finally the City of Trenton decided to send in the clean-up crews, some trucks, small bobcat lifters,

It was a cool breeze that blew down the street, so she pulled her scarf out to hold her hair in place. It was her favourite scarf, matching her green spring coat but in a darker shade of green with patterns of other lighter greens splashed through. She stumbled over the fallen branches. What a mess. She still had a block to go. She switched arms with the heavy load. Putting her shopping bag down and her hand bag, to catch her breath, she got herself in balance ready to change the loads by switching sides.

She sighed and took a swig from the next open bottle before quickly screwing the cap back on. She shuddered with the unseasonable weather. But, of course, these storms prevail every year. The noise from the chainsaws, the screech of the wood chippers, the trucks rumbling and the incessant beeping of the little bobcats reversing to and fro, with their large leafy twiggy loads, was hammering inside her addled brain. The flashing lights on the trucks and the taller, reaching cherry pickers were also doing her head in.

A sudden gust of wind blew at her scarf and as she reached for it, she lost her balance in the process. Her scarf was caught and tangled in the small branches, and then sharply tugged by the large branch that had been positioned in line with the wood chipper. It was all over in an instant. Helen was dragged inside so quickly, a blurry mix of greens camouflaged amongst the foliage, and nobody heard her screaming in despair as the chipper mulched the heavy branch. The screeching of the chipper drowned out her screams completely. The young men in the clean up crews were completely unaware. They were wearing their safety glasses, speckled with fresh sawdust and had their ear protectors on, and, as the branch disappeared they had turned their backs protectively as the wood chipper did its thing. Projectile hazards were an infrequent happening but it was instinctive to turn away.

Now that this section of the street and the footpath were finally cleared, they all moved on, further down the street and around the corner where Helen's house was.

All that remained on the footpath, was her handbag, her shopping bag … and a single shoe.

_**THE END**_

_So, that's the end. Frank's vision and dream sort of did come true. He just doesn't know it. Nor does anyone else. *evil cackle*_

_Thank you for all your wonderful reviews and sharing some of your experiences. We hope you enjoyed the ride and we really appreciate you following us. We enjoyed plotting._

_JE owns them, we just play with them._

_Missy Kim & Ms. Margaret_

_MMBabefanmmm & Margaretlucylu _


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